The story begins in the middle

When I get home from a big trip, I like to let things sit for a while. I like to let things float around in my head while I settle back into the business of everyday. I put the images away and let the proverbial dust settle. I am slow to process, so slow. But I think this is because when I'm traveling, I am all the way in it. Up to my elbows, up to my eyeballs, up to my everything in whatever is happening around me. And I love while I'm in it but one day mushrooms into the next and I am too close to what's happening. I can't see it, not really. It's only when I pull back that the whole thing finally comes roaring into focus.