The Flight

When I was a kid, my mom made the most delicious graham cracker and chocolate frosting sandwiches. After walking home the 3 blocks from school, I would enter the house and the familiar (much welcomed, always appreciated) aroma of Graham Cracker Sandwiches would fill the air. One whiff of these delights and I had the greatest feeling, I was HOME.

Late last night when my flight arrived in Beijing I was walking from the World Trade Center to my hotel. The streets were alive with activity, the air - as it always is in Beijing was thick with pollution ( but more bearable than 4 yrs ago). I walked into the hotel, a sweet, quaint little place. I was greeted by a beautiful brown skinned young man who didn't speak english. We checked me in, running through the usual 'sign language' skills all cultures seem to share.

As he smiled at me, his being with the same gratitude that mine was - for we were happy we communicated without too many difficulties. I stopped, looked around, fill my lungs with the air that is "China", and like when I was a kid, that sudden peace of home surrounded me. I gave him a smile, and the one I got in return let me know, I was HOME.