My return home was long. I had a thirty-one-hour day, more than twenty-seven hours of it spent in transit. I stayed awake as best I could, hoping I’d be sleepy, not wired, when I finally stepped into my home at 1:30 a.m.

Long day, but I did okay and started my first day home a little before 6 a.m.

My home is not perfect.

Not the house.

Not the relationships.

Time away is a respite from facing domestic challenges and the mountain of tasks that need to be addressed.

But as I started my first day home, the weight of the long day I’d endured didn’t press on my heart. My to-do list wasn’t at the top of my pile.

When I stepped out into the morning on my back porch, I was greeted by the wild that comes to me.

• The birdsong announcing the early light.
• The bright orange of our koi.
• The cheerful cosmos that hopped the fence from the Hilltop Arboretum to volunteer in my backyard.

My happiness volunteers.

The cosmos are not tidy and obedient. I can never lure the chickadee to perch on my finger. And I’ll never harness the big star as we fall into and away from its light, day after day after day.

These flowers, the birds, the colorful fish, and the morning sun selflessly contribute to my happiness. They are the texture of a deep-rooted joy that I can access, not only on Zaga beach in Greece, but also in my imperfect home.

I’m happy to be home. Grateful for these untamable welcomings.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026.