In the olden days (as in, when I was a kid), the end of an American space mission would be marked by a splashdown.  The spacecraft would parachute into the ocean and the astronauts would emerge, looking dazed but thrilled to have made it.

This is how my splashdown looked the last day of my journey, almost three months after my departure. Nowhere near as arduous; but as you may recall, I was as nervous as Neil Armstrong at the beginning — when I had a mini-meltdown and almost chickened out.

Dropped rental car off at LAX, after ridiculously easy ride from Marina del Rey.

Had my farewell-to-the-Southwest meal at this joint. Even though I knew it was a chain, and I’d actually eaten there in Pennsylvania and wasn’t impressed. But emotion got the better of me, and I ordered anyway.

Surprise. It wasn’t any better in LA …

Couple of hours later at O’Hare. How could I tell? This trash bin and no palm trees.

This American Airlines commuter plane from Chicago to Harrisburg, PA, was about the same size as one in India so many weeks ago.

The sun finally sets on my round-the-world journey heading east, somewhere over the Great Lakes.

Happy to have a big welcome home from Mitch. Vera Bradley and I are beyond  bedraggled. And we clearly look it. Time to give it a rest. For a few weeks anyway.