This morning I woke up in Nashville, but now I’m back in Van Buren. Whenever I return from an out-of-state trip, I always feel a bit unsettled. I know the technology to travel long distances in short amounts of time has been around since before I was born, but I still feel odd whenever it happens to me. Maybe it’s not traveling the physical distance that bothers me, but traveling the emotional distance.

Last night before I blogged, Bonnie and I sat in the kitchen and ate cold pizza and did shots of whiskey. At least I think it was whiskey. It could have been rum. I’m not an expert. Anyway, somehow we got on the topic of fairy tales, which fascinate me. As the conversation went on, I brought up Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and talked about the fact that she goes on this amazing journey, but when she gets back, her family thinks it was a dream. Like everyone I’ve ever dated, they don’t get it. (In their defense, of course they don’t get it–they didn’t go on the journey and they weren’t the ones transformed by it.)

So that’s what I mean by the emotional distance, the transformation. I think any journey, even a week in Nashville, can change a person. Personally I had a week that was full of excitement, inspiration, and contemplation. That’s a lot to digest, and it’s hard to bring it all back to the place you came from, since it often feels like the people there don’t get it either. But again, why should they? They’ve been living their own lives, their own adventures.

I guess it just takes time to adjust after a big trip. On the drive back today, Todd and Bonnie and I didn’t talk much. I think all of us were tired, each looking back and looking forward, trying to figure out where to put the last eight days, maybe disappointed there weren’t more of them.

While Todd drove, I sat in the back and read one of the books I bought yesterday, Be Your Own Fairy Tale by Alison Davies. There’s a section in the book about Enchanted Slumber, the type of sleep that came over both Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. (And will come over me as soon as this blog is over.) The author explains that sleep represents not only periods of rest in our lives, but also periods of transformation. In the case of Sleeping Beauty, she fell asleep a girl, but woke up a woman.

For lunch this afternoon I had a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake from Dairy Queen, so this evening I went for an incredibly long walk/jog. (Since I started the hour before midnight, my stupid fitness app split my results into two days, so it looks like I barely met my goal, when the truth is that I FAR exceeded it.) Anyway, God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m about to enter a period of transformation myself. Exercise is about to become a regular thing around here, and that means no more beer and tacos for a while. (Don’t worry, beer and tacos, I’ll come back for you, I just really need my pants to fit right now.)

As I walked/jogged tonight, I thought a lot about the fairy tale book, about how this time in my life is a lot like an Enchanted Slumber. (Obviously, I sleep past noon. Plus, I’m waiting for Prince Charming.) But really, it’s a big time of rest, a time of waiting, a time of transforming not only my waistline, but almost everything about me. Granted, I’m not exactly sure what things will look when it’s all over, but Sleeping Beauty didn’t either, and it worked out nicely for her.

As the book suggested, looking at things this way is already helping. I know that a lot of times I get frustrated because I’m not over there–now–but thinking of Sleeping Beauty reminds me that rest (and patience) is necessary for all of us. Rest gives us the energy for the adventure to come. What’s more, rest gives us time to dream.

So I’m reminded to give myself time to rest, whether it’s coming off closing a business of eleven years and selling most my possessions, or coming back from a weeklong trip to Nashville. After all, a lot of emotional ground has been covered, and it takes time to assimilate. Of course, when you’re resting, there’s no hurry. (Ask any Sleeping Beauty.) One day, for certain, you’ll wake up. And you’ll be grateful for the time you rested, and you’ll be just as grateful that you’re different, far from the person who fell asleep.