The Grecian morning greets me through the open blinds. The sounds of the sea echoed through the open balcony doors. A salt-slicked breeze rushes through the room whipping the gauzy white curtains into the air with a flourish.
The pounding headache rises to greet the day with me seems worse with each passing second, leading me to pad across the bedroom floor to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom in search of some ibuprofen. After downing a glass of water and two pain relievers I start feeling a little more like myself. I'm not much for hangovers. Unfortunately, the run I was looking forward to on the white sand beaches is going to have to wait.
I find my way downstairs where the echo of familiar voices evokes a sense of deja vu from the night prior. A warm sense of home sweeps through me. Wherever we end up, as long as we have our family with us, we're always whole. In Boston, In LA, or Greece, it doesn't matter. They are my home. Lexington is my home.
