Dropped two old friends off at the airport tonight after their three-month adventure in America. We cracked bad jokes to break the tension, and they described their feelings beautiful: A sense of nostalgia for something that hasn't quite passed, a sadness, but a full kind of sadness, like a thing accomplished. I think it struck us all, in that sad-sweet moment, that they were describing feelings also applicable to that bigger journey we're all on. That gets to the heart of what travel is, somehow. It's a life lived from birth to death, and the return trip that seems to final is anything but, because there are new trips ahead.