Homeward Bound

Well. I should clarify. I’m bound by home but I’m not homeward bound…not yet, anyway. KISA & I have started the planning process. The date has been set, the house has been booked. So, we’re on a roll, so to speak. Figuring out when to go is half the battle.
I’m excited about this upcoming stay. We’ve rented a childhood’s friend’s childhood home. It will be like living in the house of childhood past. How much has it changed? What will I remember? Will I find the crayon scrawl I made behind the closet door? I can remember it like it was yesterday. Inspired by Harold I held a purple crayon. Hunkered down I drew a purple heart with a pounding heart. Will it still be there?
We asked friends to come with us. We always go through this process with trepidation. Will our friends “survive” the island? It’s always a crapshoot. No electricity. No Xbox. No cell phone. Who can take that kind of isolation without going crazy within the hour? When deciding who to ask we always throw around names and take bets. What are the odds? Does she blowdry her hair? Does he have to check his email all the time? Can they walk a mile? Live without Big Mac? To get the island is to get me.