I woke up on a Monday and walked Abbey Gardens to Abbey Road, to Langford to Loudoun to Grove End to St. John's Wood tube which took me to London Bridge.to King William Street, to Eastcheap to Philpot Lane to Lime Street.
I woke up the following Monday and took Burning Tree Court to Burning Tree Road, to GreenTree to Fernwood to Democracy, to Old Georgetown Road, to Edson to Rockville Pike.
They are both commutes. One is faster than the other. One involves a car, the other my legs and a Tube.
We had spent the previous weeks and months preparing the children for their re-entry. Only in the wee hours of the night was there time to imagine what life back home would be for us. All our friends implored, "nothing changed." And on a grand scale nothing did. But we changed, didn't we?
In a few days you are back in a rhythm, a routine of work, letters to camp, weekends, workouts, lunches, and meetings.
But as the days inch along the notion that nothing changed was a realization, not a warning. Part of why we left was the change, we were eager to come back as changed people, do things differently, not as the same lemmings who left.
There was no comfort in "no change." There was disappointment.
And then after a particularly industrious week of meetings downtown, up and back on the Metro, instead of the car. After drinks with friends. After a business trip and some meals at familiar places, the comforts of home. You realize the phrases you'd been repeating to the kids, the concepts of resilience, challenges, mountains and molehills may have actually been a mantra for ourselves.
You are resilient. Life back home was pretty good. You're gonna be OK.
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