After a very long three days at work and away from home, surrounded by the shroud of loss that is hard to quantify and describe, I headed back to my home-away-from — I mean, my hotel room.

As I entered the room, I was accompanied by my familiar friend Lonely. This companion comes at most inconvenient moments and is rarely welcomed. Okay, never welcome. I’ve learned over the years of work travel what to do with this guy (?) – crowd him out with Scripture reading, a good movie or book + glass of wine, long walk, hard work out, or calling a friend (or family). Like any bad relationship, you minimize influence and impact and sideline them to the outer regions of heart and soul through deliberate action.

But sometimes Lonely is a welcome companion, especially when Self Pity is also visiting. They make an effective team, particularly when I’m tired and worn out.

Last night they were settling in comfortably, making it clear they were there to stay. I was about to turn down their beds and fluff their pillows when I was stopped by the reminder that these are not my friends, nor do they have my best interests in play. So as I dialed the phone number of one of my longest-time friends, I booted them out the door. An hour later, I was bolstered and comforted and felt like a piece of Home had entered my hotel room.

As I write this from my seat on this A321, the lingering aforementioned loss hanging on like a shadow, I’m thankful to be heading home. I’m even more thankful for friends to call, who help evict unwanted companions, and help me refocus and regain perspective.

And all seems a bit more right with the world. After a year of being a therapy horse, he’s back with me. It was a hard thing and a good thing for us both: he learned some new skills and I saved some money. I also learned to appreciate him more in his absence, so his return is incredibly sweet. 

Telluride has been on my “bucket list” for years. Can’t tell you when or why it was added to the list. 

I went skiing there this past February with friends and was introduced to its winter beauty, and something in my soul felt like it came alive there. 

Then in June I was able to introduce my twin to this special place and revel in its summer beauty. And again, my soul felt alive and at home. 

I was talking about this with mom a couple days ago and she reminded me of a trip my dad took us on when we were very small, before he passed away. I wonder now if this is why this place feels like home – somehow I feel closer to him up there. 

It really is a bit of heaven on earth.