"At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.
At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland; and already they were singing again as they went. But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.
He drew a deep breath. 'Well, I'm back,' he said."
The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Okay, so a stomach virus is not a journey up Mount Doom to destroy the ring, or a trip to the Grey Havens to bid farewell to the dearest of friends, but there were moments in the misery that you would have been hard pressed to convince me of that. I. hate. stomach viruses. PERIOD. We have battled, we have surrendered, we have attempted a comeback, and we have gone down again. But, finally, we are back! Our new Mount Doom is the laundry pile, and I think we will call in the carpet cleaner to help us finish germ-purging, but we are making it back to the Shire where the fire is warm and dinner is waiting.
Amidst it all we have celebrated a birthday, finished book two in the Chronicles of Narnia, and reached our maximum capacity for movie viewing for a while. I finished The Name of the Rose, we have filled pages in our art journals, and we all rested a lot.
So, beware potential blogging binges in the days to come. We still have art class reflections to document, a fine young man's birthday to chronicle, and a visit from the family at WPMs to detail. We have managed to fill in the cracks and crevices of our moany-groany days with many bloggable moments.
Last night we had yet another storm, with the thrill of lightning and thunder. I stole outside alone and stood under the cover of the front porch to listen to all the sounds. Sheets of lightning and booms of thunder were interlaced with the croaking of frogs from the stream down the hill and the gentle raindrops blowing against the oak leaves. Finally, the clouds just unloaded, and all that could be heard was the pound-pound-pounding of hard rain. The air smelled heavenly, my mind was racing away, and I realized I felt healthy. Not just nausea-free, not just rested, but alive, clear-thinking, happy and thankful. Nothing like the by-gone days of the stomach flu to make a gal grateful. Oh, it is good to be back.
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