So, apparently, for every hour you fly outside of your time zone, it takes roughly a day to recover. We were over 12 hours off. So I’ve been sleeping afternoons away for a hot minute. I tried not to. I really did. But I was naughty, and maybe indulged in a bit too much wine, as usual.

Last week was my first week feeling normal. But man, work. Jobs. 9 hour days and Grad School at night from 7-10 PM my brain feels like it’s melting from the confines of my skull.

I yearn to go outdoors. Desperately. I yearn for magic and the feeling of the sun against my face. I long painfully for a kiss of wind against my cheek. Caresses. Touches of love. Of whimsy. Of grace.

Today, I played with the babies. I loved on them, perhaps a bit more than I should. Momma came out complaining, wanting me to hand her small babe back. But the little kisses. The gentle nuzzles. The little grunts of warm air blown against the lining of my jaw. Perfection.

Animals are like this. Precious gifts. Even now, my dog lies wrapped, like cinnamon buns, resting up against my thigh. My cat is stifling my need for air. But the touches of their fur, their skin, is like magic. What is it about them? What is it so powerful, that I don’t crave the need for human touch?

I think it must be in their love and in their trust. When we were in India, the wild dogs followed me around. I think they sense the same wild loneliness that they possessed in me. Forever not belonging. Forever living on the outskirts of the inside. Outside of the in. If that’s a thing, then it is what I feel.

Animals are gifts. If you have no companion in your life, get one whose fur can bear the presence of your fingers rushing through. If you can’t, come along and borrow mine. Sometimes home is something more than just a frame on stilts. Sometimes, it is the place that you return to, when the world becomes altogether too exhausting.

Thank goodness for the tails that wag within the night. I don’t know how I would sleep without their symphony in my own head.