While we absolutely loved our recent trip to Bali, a certain inevitable amount of physical and mental strain was present during the entire trip. I didn't even realize it was there until we landed at Changi Airport. Coming home to Singapore felt like, well, coming home.
I noticed it the minute we departed the plane. A familiar terminal. A spotless bathroom (complete with pristine changing table). An efficient immigration process. We had been in the airport enough times to find our way to the baggage claim area easily. We got our carts, bags, and headed for the taxi queue [line]. After a very short wait, we were on our way. A smooth, safe ride [during which the driver obeyed all traffic laws], and we were home.
The following day was a rainy Sunday. It was a little slice of heaven. I found we were doing lots of little things we used to do back at home in the States. Wandering from room to room, I actually began humming "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music. Only instead of "raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens" it was…
the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
the sound of rain on the windows and cartoons on the television
Christmas PEZ dispensers being emptied at record speed
little boys hard at work, silently creating new realms made entirely of Legos
a new chapter in our latest [1950's] Hardy Boys adventure
Ahh…This was familiar and relaxed and fun. I was so grateful for our beautiful vacation, but I was even more grateful for the unexpected gift I was given upon our return. The gift of home.