Home, and in a heart beat I have seen more people than I do in a year in France.
Exactly thirty six people (family) before I went to bed on Friday night.
Grand Central Station is where my mother lives.
I had a safe flight, but that is the only good word I can use to describe it. Though when it comes to flying, "safe" is the only word that matters. My flight was delayed due to weather in Marseille. It arrived late in Amsterdam and I was told that I could not make my connecting flight because my luggage would not be with me. At the passport control station, since my passport was brand new, the controller asked me, "Where do you live?" I have an American passport, but I reside in France. Since there wasn't a stamp in my passport, they asked to see my resident card.
It was the beginning of the longest trip home.
I had a six hour lay over, then flew to Minneapolis, the videos didn't work on the plane, they changed the airlines I was on, my suitcase was lost for three days. 13 extra hours to a twenty two hour door to door trip. It wasn't dramatic but it wasn't fun either.
But the moment I touched ground, I was home and nothing else mattered.
Thank you for all your good wishes and prayers for a safe trip. xx
Home and happy.