going home

Today we're going home to Las Vegas. At the moment we're getting gas in Baker. It's hot like an oven. 

Going home is...not like a mother's warm embrace. Not like a slap in the face either. Going home is like...slipping on a banana peel?  Slipping back into place?  

Going home is like a bumpy landing at the end of a bumpy airplane ride--one more source of anxiety but at least the ride is over.