The house feels empty: the Girl, asleep in the other room; K and the Boy, somewhere over the Atlantic. It’s an odd feeling, this quiet, not entirely unwelcome after the stressful departure. Rain, rain, and more rain, and a delayed departure from Munich which meant a delayed arrival in then departure from Charlotte. And then there’s the question of further delays from Munich to Krakow. So it’s been a fairly up-and-down evening.

When the Girl discovered the up escalator paired with “stairs that don’t move,” the up-and-down became literal. It was a good distraction: the Boy was hungry and the Girl was fidgety.

Everyone else was, too. Especially in this part of the airport — baggage claim. It’s the worst part of any journey, especially the return home. All you want to do is get back to your own comfortable and known reality and you’re waiting with dozens more people for the worst carousel in the world to do its job.

After some slightly stressful difficulties at passport control, K and the Boy disappeared into the labyrinth of departure gates as L and I walked away, with one of us shedding enormous tears and the other only worried about the journey home and how long the wait for the shuttle bus to the parking — Douglas airport is adding parking garages, which ironically makes for nightmarish parking — will take.

A slow tearful return ends with the Girl in bed while I put off shuffling to an empty bed for as long as I can.

Departures stink.