Home

I want to go home.

As in, right now, I want to go home.  There is too much going wrong around me, and I feel too small and too worn out.  More things went wrong yesterday while the kids were at school, and as I was walking to get them, I was so glad to be able to look forward to holding their little hands in mine.  And I couldn't help planning more.

I'm going to walk in the hot sun on the dusty roads to the little school, and know that they are safe and we're all together.  One lean, strong, little hand on one side; one softer, square, little hand on the other, and a little body solid on my back.

We'll go home.  I'll get out some snacks.  I'll take the suitcases from under the bed, where I use them to organize and store things.  I'll just dump a couple of them out in a pile, maybe on the girls' bed.  I'll put them, open and empty, on my bed.  Then I'll go around the apartment and take what is important; I think I can take the time to fold it properly.  When I've got everything I care about, I'll just leave the rest.  They won't fit in their shorts and playdresses next summer, anyways.  I will pack our paperwork carefully.  I'll take a little more care with our small suitcases, activities and change of clothes and toothbrushes, so we have enough to make it through the long trip.  I'll let the older kids go to work, and if they think something is important, they can put it in.  I don't care if we take colored paper and leave behind the expensive toys.  I'll probably need to wear Buttercup, though.

I'll call our driver, and make a quick supper.  Probably noodles.  Everyone likes noodles, and they only need to boil for 12 minutes.

I'll tell the driver to go the airport.  I will just leave the keys on the counter.  We can stop at the ATM on the way.

There has to be a plane going somewhere, some time.  And all the connection hub cities have connections to everywhere.  I'll let the kids play ipad in the airport waiting room.  We can wait.

And at some point, when we have to go through some gate, and we only have two passports for four people?  Maybe I can keep Buttercup on my back, and put paper bags on her feet and a giant puppet on her head; or I can cut out the part of the backpack that is next to my back and put the rest over her -- I bet she can tuck her feet in.  Hibiscus is kind of long but folds up really small; she climbs in suitcases all the time.  I'm sure she can fit; it's only for a few minutes.

Or, maybe I will just take that customs official by the shoulders, and look into his eyes, and say They are my babies, and we are going HOME, and don't you dare stop us.  And I will just take those warm little hands and we will all keep walking.