Hello home.

Charlotte, North Carolina never had a happier visitor.
I practically skipped through customs and danced around the terminal during my three hour layover. I laughed when I saw the American toilets with their seats intact and their toliet paper rolls standing at attention, I cried when I saw that I had free wifi throughout the airport, and I hugged the Starbucks barista and was about to give him a kiss when I remembered that my fiancé wouldnt like that too much. I even looked over the fact that they gave my drink to another customer. I was in America. Land of the free, home of everything wonderfully familiar to me. It was then that I realized how American I was and how proud of that I was. America is a great place.
I wandered the wonderfully American terminal shops and listened to the delicious sound of American accents. I watched the American moms fuss over their American kids. I watched the American customers complain about their orders at either Starbucks or some American restaurant. I watched the American business men talk on their phones and make their plans. Before I went through security to get on my last flight home to Florida, I stepped out the doors of that airport terminal and I inhaled the smell of America. It was glorious. It smelled like freedom and deodorant. It is an amazing smell.
I went through security and made my way onto the plane. I chatted with an American soldier as we went through.
Once on the plane, me and the two ladies sitting in the same row started a conversation that lasted the majority of the flight. I told them about my life and my tales of having seen the world (ok....so just Europe). They told me about theirs, one a grandmother, the other a motivational speaker. we discussed our lives until we landed and wished each other luck as we parted ways. I couldn't have met finer ladies.
I used the free wifi in the airport terminal to text my mom and tell her what I was wearing and where I was standing. I did this until a familiar green truck rolled up and a devilishly handsome man whistled at me. My fiancé came down on a Thursday when he should be working to pick me up.
Then it hit me. It was as if all the hours I hadn't slept during the past month hit me. I struggled to put my luggage in the bed of his truck and crawled into the passengers seat. I was as good as dead. Poor man probably thought I wasn't excited to see him. All I could do was lay my head down on his travel duffel bag on the compartment between him and I and say hello.
Hello to the love of my life and hello to my home.