Home at last! Home at last! Thank God Almighty, I am home at last! – or am I…home at last?

March 4th, 2011: Home at last! Home at last! Thank God Almighty, I am home at last! – or am I…home at last? Arriving at the Detroit airport I was picked up my friend Jean who is one of my few BFF’s - who didn’t even have to earn this spot by participating in some painfully dreadful Paris Hilton-like reality show.

From the airport we made a direct run for the border…more like Taco Bell. With this being my first meal back in the United States, I clearly knew I was no longer in South America as I would continue making visits to the bottomless soda machine capitalizing on free refills as I pumped gallons of caffeine packed Diet Mountain Dew down my throat as supplied my body with its fix.

With my parents out of town, I was dropped off at my empty childhood home, bringing life back into its empty corpse. Roaming around the house that I grew up in…I was shocked to see that my parents’ décor was not that of a couple in their 60s’…it was as if their style was somehow mirroring a much younger couple. I was proud of them since typically, people their age have a massively amusing collections of dolls, bells, spoons or some other clutter collections going on to fill up there excessive free time when they are not volunteering or conversing with other seniors.

A collection of guns, shot glasses or knives in a way sounds good when you think about most senior citizens / AARP members conversations are at best, 76% about their pill regime, aches, pains or about who has recently been incarcerated in a senior home, wooden box or urn…with the other 21% being filled with who has the best children / grandchildren in typical fishing story type fashion and the remaining 3% filled with good conversation.

After picking up the carcass of the dead plant that died from starvation in my parents’ living room, I walked back and forth as a duck at some carnie wanting to be shot with a BB gun. Painfully bored after 30 minutes in the empty house, I jumped into my car and headed up and down streets trying to find family and friends houses that I could no longer remember where they lived.

After several failed attempts of going to wrong houses and asking for people who they did not know…I gave up…I quit…and decided to go, shopping. Hitting the stores, I began to restock my backpack getting items for my departure in 3.5673 months. How awful I thought…after only a few short hours in the US, I was already planning / anticipating my departure back to South America – lost…and a bit...confused.