I arrived at SFO at 9-something this morning. It still weirds me out that I left on Saturday at 5-something PM and then arrived Saturday at 9-something AM. I made it through customs pretty smoothly and the agent was really nice to me. I think I might have been on the verge of an emotion when he said “Welcome Home,” but I was quickly preoccupied with a more pressing concern: Would my family and I recognize each other? Or would my nightmares prove to be true? When I walked into the arrival lobby and didn’t see them right away, I feared the worst. But then I saw them. A little changed, but essentially the same. I was relieved, but still unsure how to act. Luckily, it turns out that family is still family no matter how long you’ve been away.
The rest of my day was pretty average. I got rid of a bunch of clothes. And then I did my laundry. Kat was sure to keep me up until she deemed it an acceptable time for me to go to bed.
And Togos is still delicious.