I stepped out of the plane and onto the, what seemed rickety, stairs that descended onto the tarmac. The anticipation grew with every step towards the ground. I’m finally home! My thoughts and blood raced as I moved closer towards the doors of the airport. It never ceased to make me chuckled as I looked at the tiny building we called an airport, but I guess that’s what you get when you live in the middle of nowhere. Though our town was smaller than many, it was full of things that I loved and people who I missed very dearly whenever I was gone. With my feet finally on the ground, I was on my way into the terminal when I finally saw that thing that made my heart jump. Sitting in the window with his face pressed up against the glass, watching for me, was my grandpa – the one who never failed to be at the airport when I arrived at home whether I had been gone for two days or two years. As I got closer to the doors, they all came into view – Mom, Dad, Brothers, Sister-In-Laws, Cousins, Friends – everyone here to welcome me home. Walking inside I was greeted with warm shouts and smiles and I couldn’t help but run forward and collapse into the arms of my Momma. Followed by a big hug from Dad. Then I was handed my little niece who looked nervous with all the loudness and excitement. As I cuddled her close I made my rounds and was drowning in hugs and “Welcome Home”s. Dad grabbed my luggage and before I knew it we were all on our way home for games and food and what seemed like unending fun times.