Smells Like Home

We’re back in Minneapolis. Probably the least eventful trans-Atlantic journey I’ve ever taken. A couple minor hiccups leaving BRU, but nothing that slowed us down. In fact, despite sitting on the tarmac in the rain for 45 minutes on departure and 20 minutes on arrival while the jet-way wouldn’t connect, then going through customs and security in ORD, we nearly made our original flight to MSP. But, we decided not to stress it and take the next one. Half our luggage went on the first flight and half on the second.

Little C held up like a champ. After 15 hours of travel, he still had a ‘vrooom, vroom’ left in him for each and every truck at the airport.

This time, it wasn’t the car seat with the TSA sticker, it was our mid-sized checked bag, with a sticker saying only: ‘Suspicious’Suspect on slapped to the outside – and a TSA pamphlet on the inside.

Stepping outside of MSP, I got my first whiff of the winter. Cold. Pure, clean, unapologetic cold – like an ice cube to the lungs. Refreshing.

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