The visit was good, except for the part where my father was nearly crushed to death under 4,800 pounds of truck. Thankfully he's okay. He is badly brusied and scraped up, but is okay. I think the swelling in his hand had visibly gone down some today before we set out on the drive back to Illinois.
Food is what Thanksgiving always centers around to some extent, and there was food in great quantity over this vacation. Wednesday, after arriving at the farm, we had a pair of giant bake-at-home pizzas. Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday was delightful: it consisted of BBQ turkey (just a hint of barbeque to go with the turkey, juicy, fine and crispy skin), mashed potato, corn, beans, squash and a few other side dishes. Friday was leftover day and the aforementioned incident with the truck. Saturday we had carry-out chinese to break up the monotony and on Sunday we had barbequed steaks.
Like all the trips to visit the place I grew up, this vacation came to and end far too quickly. While I accomplished everything I had intended during our stay, I'm still left feeling vaguely disappointed that I didn't do more for my parents while I was there. And, like the trip to the farm in August for my birthday, this feels as if it was far too short in duration. Now that I'm home I can feel a cloud creeping back around me. It's mixed in nature, ranging from depression at leaving the farm behind to anxious desire to return to work. Very likely I will be a moody, unhappy person until I get back into the groove and can bury myself in the routine of my professional life (which usually eclipses my personal life).
There are stars in the southern sky