Homecoming

I'm not talking about my first date with the Artist where I borrowed a dress and didn't understand that my hair can work for me and needn't be an enemy.
But if you want to ask me about that "homecoming" sometime we can laugh. I have pictures.
I wanted to show a few pictures of my homecoming a week ago.
First, obligatory self portrait with cell phone as we fly home:

It was one of the best weekends of my life, but it was fast and intense and by Monday evening I was sort of a shell of myself in a middle seat on a small airplane. But I managed to smile and look human so pretend that's how I felt.
I kept thinking that I just needed to go collect my girls from my mom's house and get some sleep. But when I stepped into the airport I was surprised by this sight:

I know- couldn't get any cuter. I laughed so hard. Can we all just say it together? Nom Wow! Only my Dancer.
So I got my hugs and many requests for a present (whaddid you bring me? whaddid you bring me?) and we settled in for the hour drive home. And just when I was thinking how quiet my weekend had been (those girls were firing off words like bullets from a machine gun) we came home to this:

There was silly string and noisemakers and mostly love. Thank you to my writer's group who shared in my victory. It meant more than a lot.
And then we walked up to the front door to find this:

Thanks, Gabs! You have pulled so hard for me. I'm lucky to have you.

First I was overwhelmed by shock, and then by love. I've always been pretty good at "mourning with those who mourn," but this experience has taught me the value of "rejoicing with those who rejoice." I would give up a hundred book contracts for the love of one friend.

To those of you who offered your support in any way- a smile, a note, an invisible thought- I felt it. Thank you for letting me have a shining moment.
Thank you for shining with me.