I made pancakes, thus further establishing the home credential.
I got my laptop going again, which made it cranky and balky. My email was all, no room at the inn, bitches, so I had a merry time deleting, but also rereading, emails from the past. Totally a sentimental journey, except that I could not send any emails whatsoever until all that heartwarming business was entirely OUT. OF. THERE. Also, just for extra delight, a mandatory software backup. Good computer times!
But when things were humming along, computer-wise, and laundry was churning away in the machine, I went to the front door, just to get a bead on the front yard. There was a hummingbird. It was visiting a torch lily, aka a red hot poker, that we had planted midsummer.
I opened the storm door just a little bit to get a closer look, and it rose, and redirected its whir at the door. It came closer and closer in little pulses. I drew the door a little more closed. It hovered in the air about eighteen inches away from me, its beak pointed directly at me. It felt like a greeting, a little.
And then, it turned toward the columbine, and I went back inside.
The laundry is done, and I have reengaged with work. Advance copies of my book have arrived. I'm making a list of places to send review copies. I'm tired and I have cried several times today. I miss the Scotlands. But I am home.