As I sit in bed writing, the whole world is gently heaving. Although I've been off a plane for a while now, my inner ear hasn't forgotten the previous eighteen hours very easily.
Our flights went well, after the inauspicious beginning this morning in Athens. The children were wonderfully well-behaved, and I didn't even have to pull out any drugs to produce the behavior. After the landing of our long nine-hour flight to Dulles, the passengers (young, not married, no children), commented that they hadn't even known there were children in front of them. Thank you for your prayers; I know they helped everyone get through a long, long day.
My parents have lovingly welcomed me and the children, and the girls were in fine form, screeching as Grandpa riled them up in the bath this evening. Edwin isn't so sure about this whole arrangement, but I'm sure the toys will help convince him that this is an okay place to be.
I'm doing as well as can be hoped; now that I'm here the reality has begun to set in. As long as we were traveling, we were just traveling - that existence that is nowhere in particular for an unspecified amount of time. But as the end of our trek neared, I had to keep from crying as my thoughts ran back to Brandon, still in Cairo.
The only thing to do, of course, is act like life continues on and so it will. I'm grateful to be in a place with so many friends from my youth who have children like me so I am not alone. All of the friends in the world, however, can't make up for my best friend who we left behind.