In the Twilight Zone

The flight home was non eventful. The time passed quicker than I had anticipated, which was probably a good thing, though sitting there, I wished the plane would turn around and go back. I wasn't looking forward to hauling the heavy bags again, standing in line at customs, and a three hour drive back to Michigan. I missed Aidan and wished he had been able to fly home with us, at least. Part of the time, I just scrolled through photos on my iPhone from the previous few days just to remember our time there. I happened upon a video I hadn't seen or recorded myself, that began with a shot of a wooden table surface. I thought, "Um, what might this be?? Did I accidentally hit record last night?" As I watched it, I soon realized what a gift it was at this moment. Aidan's two year old nephew, Fionn, had grabbed my iPhone and managed to hit record as he walked around the kitchen. I saw my own feet and heard my voice teasing James, one of the twins, for drinking the rest of my soda, and James running off taunting me, before I'd recaptured my iPhone from Fionn. It was 30 seconds of joy for me to see, sitting on this plane almost to Canada.

We had been near the back of the plane in the aisle instead of the window this time, and while it was going to be easier to exit the plane than having to wait for someone at the end of our row to gather their belongings and head out, I had already made the decision to be the last to leave. I was in no hurry to have to haul our four heavy bags, and we didn't have a connecting flight to rush to, anyway. Taking our time also meant I could gather my thoughts and put myself mentally together before seeing my parents. I felt guilty for wanting to be back in Ireland, it wasn't that I hadn't missed my family -- I missed them a ton. I just wasn't ready for this chapter of life to end.

Sure enough, we were the last to exit and at our own pace. We made our way up and down escalators to find customs, stood in line, finally approached the desk, only to discover we had been given the wrong declaration form on the plane to fill out. Seriously?? We had to go to the back of the room, fill out a new form, and come to the head of the line. Sure, why not add another 40 minutes of wait time. By the time we got to the head of the line again, I was just wanting this day to be over. Lucky for us, no issues at customs. Though, I have to chuckle: Some of the questions on the declaration form were, "Have you spent time near or on a farm or ranch? Have you been in contact with farm or range animals? Are you carrying soil or plants from outside this country?" Ummmm, No, no way, what's a farm animal? Soil? Nah. I wasn't about to get detained because I played with some sheep and was bringing turf back to the States through Canada. No way, sorry Charlie.

Once through customs, we headed off to baggage claim. I searched for a free cart to use for our luggage and all I could find were several men offering their cart services for $10. Blast. Figures. In Dublin, the carts are plentiful, and free. Ugh. Jillian and I loaded up our wheeled suitcases with our heavy carry-ons and headed out to find my parents. We walked out of the baggage claim area and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Sure enough, there were my parents with broad grins, waiting for us. We were finally able to reach them and got big welcoming hugs, my mom ever so thankful we'd landed safely (she's the nervous one about air travel.) It was so good to see them!

As we started to walk away to head toward the parking structure, I noticed an empty cart in the middle of the walkway, and I grabbed it. Where the heck were they all when I could've used it in baggage claim?? Oh well. Thankful to have found it when I did -- we had a LONG walk to the car!

Once we found the car and loaded up, Jillian and I got in the backseat. My mom drove away out of the parking spot and into the exiting lane of traffic and I about had a heart attack. It took me a minute to realize she wasn't pulling out into oncoming traffic  -- and I burst into laughter. I discovered that I had grown so accustomed to being on the "wrong" side of the road, that being in a car on the "right" side of the road was momentarily terrifying! How funny. I never even drove over in Ireland (though I wanted to, just didn't have the chance) -- but I rode enough to have gotten very accustomed to it. Talk about reverse culture shock!

The drive home was odd. I began to feel kind of numb, not really knowing where I was. Granted I was tired, but not overly so. It was a good visit with my parents and we stopped off for dinner where I was able to finally talk to Aidan and let him know we'd landed and were safe. It was SO good to hear his voice -- I missed him immensely. I also spoke to the boys and let them know I was on my way home to see them. Hint: Better have the house fairly clean for your mother, boys.

My heart still ached from leaving Ireland and all of Aidan's family. As we drove through my hometown and toward my house, I just felt deflated. I struggled with the fact that I missed my family and I should be happy to be home, feeling so guilty to be feeling less than ecstatic. I wished there was a way just to grab my family and take them with me back to Ireland.

We pulled into the driveway and out came Ethan, who once again looked like he'd grown a foot. Big hugs and smiles. As I started to get bags out of the car, out came PJ, my oldest, with more hugs. His friend, Paige was there too, and she was about to leave but I convinced her just to stay, no need to rush off. The boys helped carry everything into the house. It was SO good to see my boys. I had missed them. I still wish they would've been with us in Ireland.

The house. Heaven, help me.

Before I even reached the front door, I saw that everything on my huge front porch was sort of rearranged. There was a big china cabinet that belonged to the family of one of PJ's friends who had recently moved and couldn't fit it into their moving truck, just sitting on my porch. There was a good blanket off of my sofa thrown over one of the rockers and miscellaneous hoodies strewn about. If this is the outside, what must the inside look like? I felt a pang of terror. I had left two teenage boys home for seven weeks -- I didn't expect miracles. But -- they both had known me their entire lives and knew that when I come home from traveling, I totally appreciate a put-together house. Hmmmm.

I already had begun to spruce up the porch and move chairs back into place before I even went inside the house, with my mom calling after me to just stop and go in and relax. This was the problem. I was exhausted and probably overemotional anyway, but it's not like me to be able to just sit when things are in disarray. No, I'm not OCD, but my house -- my home -- is a part of me, and if it's seriously upside down, I don't feel like myself. If there was one thing I needed at this moment, it was to at least feel like myself. Because God knows, I certainly wasn't feeling like I belonged here. I didn't really know at that moment where I belonged. But I did know where I wished I was.

As soon as I opened the front door, out came our dog barreling right at me. He was overjoyed to see his mama home! I was so happy to see him too, and we sort of crashed at each other, with me landing on my behind on the porch floor, perfect level to get doggy kisses all over my tired face.

Going into the house was the strangest experience. I really felt like it was some kind of twilight zone. It didn't feel real to me. Not to mention, it was ... um ... trashed. The boys had told me how much they'd cleaned and I had heard them over the phone fighting over chores, but in this moment I realized that their version of clean and mine were not the same, bless their hearts. The funny thing was, on a normal day I'd have been fuming, to be honest, at what I'd found. But this day, I was just happy to have had such a wonderful stay in Ireland, happy I was reunited with my family, happy to be engaged to the most wonderful man on the planet, and even with the heartache of having left Ireland, I still really wasn't mad at the boys for trashing the house, at all. I was proud of them for keeping it together, for not having crazy parties in our house, for staying out of trouble, and for keeping in daily touch with their grandparents and with me. I was proud of them for those things. I was, however, itching to clean. My parents and the boys sat down and Jillian ran off to her room to see her "stuff" she'd missed all summer. I made my way to the kitchen to get drinks for the family and that's when I about fell over.

What is this ... Where did my kitchen go?

I am certain that the Swedish Chef from the Muppets had been cooking in my kitchen everyday for the last seven weeks. There was dried food splattered on the cabinets and crumbs all over the floor, dried koolaid circles on the island and an overflowing trashcan. Both sides of the sink, in the sink, and on the stove were loaded with dirty dishes. Every surface was FILTHY. I kept my smile though, somehow, and served drinks, and chatted for awhile. After a bit, my parents left, and I continued to catch up with my boys. It was so good to see them. They looked older already to me. Aidan and I bid goodnight over Skype, after a little teary chat. Then everyone headed to do their own thing for a bit as I wandered back into the kitchen. I shoved up my sleeves and began to clean.

And clean.

And clean.

Eventually I took a break, made sure Jillian was off to sleep. PJ left with Paige and Ethan was playing a game and kept apologizing for the house, thinking I was mad. I may have been cleaning like a mad woman, but I wasn't mad. I was actually, in some odd way, thankful for this huge amount of work, because it kept me from noticing my shattered heart and my longing for the green hills I had only left hours before.

Around midnight, I hopped in the car to go to the store to buy more cleaner, and to pick up some Irish tea. I desperately needed that comfort. After picking up a few things, I headed back home once again.

And cleaned.

I cleaned until 3am. Then, I came into my bedroom and completely stripped my bed, as one of my son's friends had been allowed to sleep in my room (why, I will never know, but it crushed me to know the kids thought that was a bright idea!) I then found the new bedding I'd bought at Ikea in Belfast and remade my bed before I allowed myself to sleep. Exhaustion. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had been awake over 24 hours. This should kick jet lag in the arse. Now I've completely upset the inner clock! As sad as I was to be going to bed alone without my true love, I was far too exhausted to think or feel anymore. I just fell asleep like a rock.

In the days to come, I continued to clean and put the house in order, in between family get-togethers, as my niece and family were up visiting from NC. I was so tired, but I kept pushing myself to work, work, work around the house, trying not to feel what my heart was going through. One morning, Aidan called on Skype as he does, and his daddy popped on the screen to say hello. After he walked away, I just started crying. I couldn't stop crying. I missed them so much, it was killing me.

There were things here at home that just seemed so foreign to me. Conversations between people that hit me as being harsh and judgmental. And I almost broke the toilet the first time I used it because I put all my muscle into flushing it like I did at home in Ireland. At least that made me laugh at myself.

I really spent the first week back in the States walking around in a twilight zone. I had to make myself unpack. I didn't want to wash my clothes because they still smelled like Irish laundry soap. I drank tea when I let myself feel the sadness and longing to be back home in Ireland. I was truly a wreck. It wasn't that I didn't love my family or love my home or miss my bed and my dog and my car (I did miss having a car, that's for sure!) But I felt like I had one leg in the States and one leg in Ireland, and the virtual splits I was trying to do was making me crazy. It helped to see Aidan on Skype, and it helped to know he will be coming in at the end of the month, but I still just felt so ... odd. I thought back to the days when I worked with foreign exchange students. Before they went home, we used to give them something called a "reentry orientation." We discussed things like reverse culture shock, changes in perspective after having lived in another country, becoming comfortable with your old family and friends again after being so long apart. And I realized, I, too, needed a reentry orientation. I was completely torn in two on the inside. Happy to have my family, sad to be away from Aidan and his family.

There was, however, one little brightness looming before me ... Aidan and I have begun to discuss a Fall wedding. Our plans to be soon together here have day by day helped me to get resettled, and each day, reminding myself that he'll be here soon, have drawn me out of the fog. I'm excited to get the house ready for him. I excitedly emptied an overpacked closet in my room completely, stocking it with new hangers. I've begun to stock the freezer and cupboard, and make mental lists of little things to do before he gets here. I ordered an electric kettle and a teapot on Amazon for the kitchen.

At night I pour over pictures of wedding dresses and ideas for our wedding on Pinterest, while sipping tea from one of the cups given to me by Aidan's family. I'm still a little off kilter, but I'm feeling more back to normal as the days go on. Aidan and I both decided that our first week apart was the longest week of life -- felt like a year. I'm glad to be on the other side of it, it was painful.

There are days when I still feel like the summer was a dream. I flip through photos I took in Ireland and see images of Aidan and Jillian and I together at the Irish Sea, with his sweet family, or at a castle, and realize that this was not a dream. This is our life together, the one that is still in its youth. I am thankful for all of it. <3