The joys of returning home

Sometimes, I think the best part of travel is the excitement of returning home.  

While I waited at baggage claim in Boston, I started thinking about things I was looking forward to:

1) Eating food that is not cooked in a pool of oil. 

2) Riding in the front seat of a car 

3) Being able to drive myself around...in an automatic car...without a map. 

4) Understanding everything that people say (even if the words are said in a Boston accent...)

5) Running outside (not on a treadmill).

6) Eating breakfast without 6 people asking if I want any coffee.  (No, I don't want coffee...I never want coffee...)

7) Seeing people who have known me for more than 2 weeks.

8) FAT FREE milk...and yogurt...and salad dressing. 

9) Bravo TV

10) Swimming in a private pool, without any old men wearing speedos (gross).  

11) Not having to mentally convert another currency to US Dollars whenever I want to buy something. 

12) Cooking for myself...with 100% certainty that my food won't contain any gross hidden ingredients like mustard, cream, mayonnaise, ketchup, etc. 

Hello, Boston!  It's great to be back!

Denver

After an intense weekend of skiing in Aspen, I decided to fly back to Chicago via Denver so I could see my cousin who moved there after graduating college last spring.  I am so proud of her for taking a leap of faith and starting fresh in a new city, despite her strong ties to the Boston area. 

I took a similar journey after college when I thought it would be fun to move to San Diego.  I packed up my jeep, drove across the country with my best friend from High School, and spent what feels like 12 minutes in San Diego before deciding it wasn’t for me.  However, unlike the 12 minutes I spent living in California, my cousin has actually been thriving in Denver.

I spent some time that morning staring out the window and thinking about all of the changes that were about to happen in my own life.  Even though I have always traveled a lot for work, it was comforting to return home and enjoy the view from my apartment.  I could peer out at the flat horizon, Wrigley Field, and the giant building blocking my Northwest view (but affording me the view of the residents who keep their blinds open).  But all of that would change soon, and the view from my window every other week would be just as foreign as what I was seeing from my hotel in Denver.

View from my hotel in downtown Denver

When my cousin arrived, I enthusiastically rushed down to the lobby so I could escort her up to the club lounge for a drink.  Usually, I only see family in large groups at holidays so I was excited for us to spend one-on-one time together.  We shared the inside scoop on the exciting things happening in our lives and laughed about family news that only we would find funny.  We also walked around the city, ate bison for dinner, and pretended to be tourists even though she is now very much a resident.  By the end of the evening, I had a permanent smile on my face.  It was the perfect end to a fun vacation. 

Being tourists on Larimer Street