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I’m at a loss of words right about now but I still wanna write (nonetheless). I wanna talk about the longgg flight that has been but there are no concise terms to justify it. Besides, it’s going to be one of those longgg rambling tale I am notorious of.  I’d simply not vouch for such experience to young moms or should I say anyone who’s planning to travel by air with an infant in tow - by her/himself. Hey, don’t even think about it . (You’ll end up banging your head against the wall or worse, wring your neck like a wet cloth before you know it).

Flying with an infant was bittersweet and irksome,too.

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I must have looked like a walking zombie after the trip that seemed like an eternity. I am glad it’s done and I’m over it. Now I’ve finally arrived to my destination…Yeah, I made it. 

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Thirty hours flew by since I jetted off yet I am still up. My dense mind is wandering around like a lost soul. It feels like it’s got its own wings to take it anywhere it pleases. Patiently I’ll wait until my mind and my body crash into exhaustion. I sense it’s coming.

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I’m getting there… Jet lag isn’t in my vocabulary. Time zone isn’t a problem - not a big deal. My body clock never messes up.

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After this exasperation dwindles, I’ll talk about my share of gladness and excitement of being Home - sweet home.  (winks!)