Back to Baku

The jet stream takes pity on ex-pats by giving us a 27 hour travel time back to Baku (as opposed to the 31 hours to get to the USA). As our airplane ascended out of Chicago and Sugarland's/Bon Jovi's "Who Says You Can't Go Home" coincidentally played on my ipod, tears began to fill my eyes, and yet I was still thankful for the cosmos's little peace offering of shortening the trip by 4 hours. I'll take whatever help I can get.

It was a excellent Christmas and New Year's by any account, but prolong build-up and a desperate need for home just heightened everything. Panera Bread with my niece! Multiple visits to Sonic happy hour! Penn Square Mall Christmas shopping with my sister! Nancy's homemade breakfast! NYE with college friends! Everything was in overdrive and minus a few naps to get over jet lag, not a moment was wasted. Even being home for a month couldn't quell the sense of urgency. Like I had to juice every fantastic second out of everyone and everything.

And so it was wonderful. Every last ounce of home was just what I needed to refill my tank. I returned to Baku on "F" and each time I open a dresser drawer, the smell of my mother-in-law's softener comes wafting out and I'm heart sick for a second, but like a wave, it rolls out. And I'm left to reminisce.


(Kyle, Brooke & Pete on Christmas morning)