Confining or Liberating?

My home is my refuge.

It is the place I travel to at the end of each day that signals a new day is about to begin. Each weekend, my home allows my body and mind to rest, my soul to recharge, and my wife and I to celebrate the end of a long week together.

While I try to live by the Michael Corleone rule-of-thumb regarding my work ["Don't ask me about my business, Kay"], that line of demarcation is occasionally crossed. Problems and worries follow me home each day and sometimes I need more of a retreat.

That usually entails a trip outside the Metroplex.

This weekend, we were in Wichita Falls for Nikki's homecoming weekend. I say this with very little sarcasm, but I fully enjoyed myself.

Part of the enjoyment of traveling is the small rituals that over time have become habit.

One is morning breakfast. Larry and I always meet in the lobby at 8 for breakfast. No questions asked, few excuses allowed. I bring the paper. We talk politics and sports; I make fun of A&M, he makes fun of tu. The occasional silence is comfortable and never awkward.

I was feeling a bit under the weather this weekend, however. When we got the the hotel at 9:30, the only thing I had energy for was brushing my teeth and going to bed. After tucking me in, Melissa went downstairs to her parent's room to see the rest of her siblings. As she walked in, her father was in his sleep clothes getting ready for bed himself causing Melissa to utter, "Oh my - I've married my father."

We both took it as a complement.

Saturday was full of activities with Nikki's sorority. A tour of the campus; putt-putt and go-cart racing; a tailgate at the football stadium; the homecoming football game.

It was exactly what I needed. A chance to get away and escape from my normal surroundings. A rejuvenation, as it were.

Isolation, of sorts, does have its down side. Like getting football scores from across the nation. Larry and I probably sacrificed an eardrum apiece trying to separate the announcer's voice from the static. I resorted to the next best option: calling my brother who could text message updates for the rest of the game.

Saturday night as I crawled into bed, I realized my brother's occasional messages were the only times I thought about anything outside of Wichita Falls.

The weekend was a quick retreat, but a retreat nonetheless.

I can't wait for the next one.