Returning home

Yesterday was day three in Portland. I've done a hideous job avoiding jet lag. After dropping my sister off at work at 7AM, I fell back asleep and was horrified to see that it was 12:58 when I woke up. At least Carrie's dog, Oatie (chihuahua), was in bed with me the whole time, so I was not the sole lazy loser in the house.

I rolled out of bed and puttered around the house, trying to figure out what I could clean without making important things disappear. After my housework, I wandered over to my favorite coffee shop, Stumptown on Belmont. I started to put Oatie in his little kennel, but he gave me a sad look, so I asked if he wanted to go with- he ran straight for the door and stood like a statue as I secured his collar. We piled in the car and headed for coffee. I sat in the window of Stumptown reading the New York Times while Oatie slept on my lap. That's the nice thing here. You can bring your [sister's] dog with you everywhere. As I looked out the window at the street scene, I realised how everything is the same. I even saw the guy who owns Hoda's across the street. Everyone is still doing what they were doing when I left. Only I am different.

I've gone through a whirlwind of emotions. My first instinct was to leave again right away. Then I thought I should move back. Then I thought, You have no idea what you are doing. Just be.

Today, I have painted my sister's stairs and organised the recycling. I picked up a friend from the airport. I would work on the yard but couldn't find any tools.

Carrie's house is sunny and welcoming and it's wonderful to be with my sister again. But I feel this is a momentary reprieve from traveling and I'll most likely take the full one year sabbatical as I'd originally planned. I have a mind to work on the Pacific Crest Trail until the end of August.