We arrived home last night around dinnertime with no food in the house and no energy to go grocery shopping, so we resorted to our lazy night routine...melting into the couch with a pizza and catching up on the Lost season finale (I fell asleep an hour into it, so I still don't know how it ended). We slept for what felt like a hundred years and woke up at 6:30a.m., to the most beautiful morning. The air outside was brisk and cool and the sky was that cloudless clear blue that only comes a handful of times throughout the year. Wide awake and wired with energy, we decided to go for a walk before work. I don't know if it was the jetlag or the fresh energy that Norway had injected us with, but walking around our little town was like seeing everything with new eyes; things that are normally so boring and familiar had taken on new life...neighboring houses were more beautiful than I had remembered, the other people out walking were friendlier, and overall my life here was more inspiring than when I had left it. And then a completely unexpected thought arrived in my mind...it's good to be home. I guess even after the best journeys, there is something soothing about coming back.