homesick

140 days, give or take. That's how long it's been since I walked through the front door of my house in South Dakota, since I've eaten my mom's food, since I saw my sister Katie, since I looked into my dad's eyes and gave him a squeeze.

I've served a church mission - a long 18-month hiatus from normal life away from the family. I've gone to college two states away with only the semester breaks to hold me over 'till summer came. You would think I would be used to this. In fact, I didn't mind being away from home so much.

Somehow, mere phone calls just aren't satisfying enough. It's like that final dribble of water from your canteen as you're dragging your body through a desert. However, I'm not really in a desert. I live in a thriving ecosystem maintained by my supportive husband and friends where I hardly ever run out of water.

Mainly, I'm just being selfish. If I planned a trip home, Jed wouldn't be able to go because of work. I would most likely have friends and family throwing a baby shower for me and Grape and I would have all the time in the world with my family and friends.

Two past attempts to make it home have been thwarted - this makes me think that for some reason, I shouldn't go. Then this comes spewing out just like a three-year-old's temper tantrum, "But I wannnnna gooooo!" *banging fists on floor*. What is one to do? Suck it up?

I'm giving it one more attempt. I have two months, more or less. This one looks promising. But for fear of jinxing the whole thing, "Mum" is the word.