Returning Home

I blog to you today from an airport in Charlotte, North Carolina: the city in which I was born and lived the first ten or so years of my life. The last time I was in this airport, I was nine years old, and my mom and I were headed to France to visit my dad (who was working in Angers at the time), and to visit my grandparents. I don’t remember much from that trip, but I do remember that the airport has hardly changed since I was last here. Sure, they’re building things, and changing things, and tearing things down, but the parts I remember haven’t changed a bit. I look at people as they walk past and wonder if I ever knew them when I lived here. Everyone my age would have changed beyond recognition in the ten years since I moved away, and my beard and lack of glasses almost insure that I won’t be recognized by any of them. It’s been a long time, and I have to say that I’m happy to be back… for the three hours it has taken me to catch my connecting flight back to Montreal.

It’s been a great trip. This year at camp, a subject about which I’ll blog when I’m not sitting in an airport struggling to stay awake, was one of the best I’ve had, and I’m so glad I went. I got to visit a few people (perhaps even a few of you,) and while I didn’t stay as long as I usually do, it was still a lot of fun. It’s always weird to return home to North Carolina and see what’s changed. In some cases, it’s a Holden Caulfield museum moment – many things here have remained the same; I look at them differently not because they’re different, but because I am – and sometimes I get to experience a new part of North Carolina culture that I had never encountered before. And even though I’m used to day to day life in Montreal, there’s still something about North Carolina that resonates in my soul; something that just comes naturally.

It’s probably time for me to go. We’ve been reminded for the umpteenth time that this is a passport controlled flight and that if we have not yet done so, we should check in at the podium with our passports and boarding passes. I assume the plane has landed and off-loaded already (I wasn’t paying attention,) because we’ve finally been notified that boarding will begin soon. It’s been a fun trip, and I’m sad it’s over, but it’ll be good to sleep in my own bed again.

Note: The man sitting next to me has two people on hold, and is trying to sound important. Those of you who follow me on Twitter know how ANNOYING I find these fools.


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