If the day before you leave for a trip
is Heebie-Jeebie Day, the day after
you return—Dick said long ago—with
its weird bumps and false starts, is

Herky-Jerky Day. And, when you
put in a day of online attentiveness
that includes leading a 90-minute
editing session in front of witnesses,

it all adds up to the Tireds by mid-
afternoon. But then the man who
named these bumpy re-entries
offers to take you for Linner,

somewhere between lunch and
dinner, and you agree, even though
you’re dragon, steam issuing from
your nostrils on a surprisingly warm

October day, which, Dick reminds
you, is not unusual in these here
parts, warmer even than oddly
warm Canada, from whence you’ve

just come, and you two drive in
what seems like crazy traffic
(though you know that it’s not)
to find food in your city, which now

seems hugely crowded after eleven
days in rural southern Ontario. So
you land at a place you know well,
you sit and eat and chat, and you

feel yourself coming back into
your life, this homeplace, with
two cats who have missed you
dogging you everywhere.

And you sigh, settling in again,
tossing loads of laundry in the
familiar machines, unfolding
clean sheets with a snap to

watch them float onto the bed
like dreams, tucking in corners
as you have been so kindly tucked
in your travels, and climbing in,

you rest in this space you have
created, with help from others,
once again so thankful for this
lucky, lovely life.