Best things: coming home to my friend J's house, where I left my truck. I meant to just stop and pick it up but there was pizza and beer, and mostly there was a 6-year-old who gives the best welcome home hugs EVER and a dog who wanted snuggles (usually he greets me very happily and then forgets all about me, but tonight he kept wanting loves - how could he know I was gone to Libya?). And of course seeing J and his girlfriend - his home is always my home. We're those kind of friends.
But here's this: I miss Libya more than I'm glad to be back in New Orleans.
Sure, I'm happy to have good internet and a place of my own and all that, but it just isn't quite fitting right.
Well, maybe just because I'm so exhausted. We'll see how it plays out.
The problem is too: I was only gone a month but it feels like lifetimes of changes and intensity. To which the 6-year-old said, "But *I* feel like you've been gone for a really long time and *I* am very glad you're back now!" But most people aren't as awesome as her, and they will wonder why I'm wandering around dazed and disoriented.