tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-593970477444543007.post-34838192989209790392009-07-05T08:34:00.001-05:002009-07-05T08:35:04.996-05:00<span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">The fourth ended in the whistles, rumbles, bangs, and booms of our independence. From my deck the eastern horizon was lit up with myriad bombs bursting in air. The festivities seemed never ending, continuing well past the witching hour. I was lulled to sleep by the rumbles of fireworks exploding and Homer snoring.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">But my sleep was short lived as the Wife's Emilie Dickinson adventure began early with a trip to the airport. The gloomy clouds that dominated the day before were gone, replaced with a morning of blue skies and misty haze, punctuated by the silence of celebration's ended.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;">We kissed our goodbyes and I returned to what now feels like an empty shell of a home. Two hours and I already miss her.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/593970477444543007-3483819298920979039?l=homerstravels.com' alt='' /></div>Homer-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00180515178920053080noreply@blogger.com2