Hello from Atlanta. This is beautiful country. But in the summer it gets hot. Right now the temperature is in the mid to high 90s and continues to soar. They don’t call it Hotlanta for nothing.

And whenever the heat is up, it spawns severe weather. My daughter and I were caught in a violent storm the other day and spent half an hour trapped inside her Honda in a parking lot. Rain came in horizontal sheets and hail popped on the windshield.

Scary.

There is more bad weather in the forecast. I know I shall stay indoors a lot this week.

This vacation started on a high note, with a more than pleasant flight to Atlanta via Incheon on Korean Air.

We had clear skies throughout. Well, almost.

It was my first time on Korean. I was impressed. If you want top caliber service and amazing comfort, choose them.

There is something special about the ladies of the cabin crew. They are the embodiment of grace and femininity, impeccably groomed, their uniforms in the softest beige and sky blue, with a perfectly bowed organdy collar, and their hair coiffed and held in place by a clip shaped like an infinity sign. They are poised; graceful, elegant, confident, yet warm and friendly.

I love how they bend low toward the passenger, listening, attentive to every need, making you feel like the only passenger on board. Even on my unsteady treks to the rest room, there was always one of them there, kind enough and ready to offer an arm.

We boarded our super comfortable Boeing 777 from the newly refurbished and super cool (almost a little too cold) Naia 1, a little after midnight. We made up for a slight delay after take-off and arrived on time in Incheon, Korea. The layover gave us enough time to freshen up and enjoy some window-shopping.

Our next and longest leg was on the upper deck of the A380-800, an oversized jumbo jet that can be quite intimidating. I had heard about this huge airplane but had no idea of how gigantic it really is. I tried not to dwell on thoughts about how something this big could ever take wing. Another fear I didn’t need. But it did fly. It soared, gently, magnificently and held steady during our 13-hour flight. And I loved it.

The food was not exactly five-star that day. Someone must have left the chicken in the microwave too long.

But the veggies and mashed potatoes it came with were delicious.

Jet lag

When we landed in Atlanta midmorning of Thursday, we were hungry. So even before getting to my sister’s house in Norcross, we stopped at the drive-through of our favorite fastfood restaurant, Chick-Fil-A, and took home two yummy breaded chicken breast sandwiches and a gallon of their famous Southern sweet tea.

I have unpacked and settled in. Now I must deal with jet lag. It has been crazy. Sleepy in the middle of the day and wide-awake and raring to go when everyone else is fast asleep. My body clock is slow, keeping pace I guess with its other parts.

Two days after we arrived, my youngest child and her two daughters came in after a long drive from Florida where they live. It was blissful joy for this mama. I had not seen them in over two years. Of course we had kept in touch. But even with today’s technology, our smart phones, Facebook and FaceTime, nothing beats holding them in your arms and hugging them tight.

It rained on the eve of Independence Day. But it failed to dampen our spirits. We gathered at my nephew’s where there was a long table laden with bowls of fresh salad and grilled barbecue chicken, biscuits and all kinds of wine to celebrate the 4th.

Everyone had a good time, but jet lag got the better of this senior citizen. I was ready to pass out when our hosts herded us over to the Country Club to watch the fireworks from the first tee. I suddenly had visions of myself standing under a cool brisk shower and then lying in my cozy bed, with the air conditioning all cranked up.

Too tempting! We said our good byes and hurried home.

The next day we heard about the beautiful fireworks display we had missed. Someone described it as enhanced fireworks algorithm. Huh? I still have to find out what that means.

On the night of the 4th, I heard the explosions from a distance and saw a few bright flashes in the dark sky outside my window. And I thought of other nights; of Sydney harbor all lit up, of New Year’s Eve 2015 at Solaire. That lavish display lit up Manila Bay. It was spectacular.

I have had my share of 4th of July celebrations in America. Many lament that the fervor has faded, that the excitement has waned. I don’t know about that.

All I know is that seeing people wearing the colors and the sight of flags waving all over the place filled me with hope and intense nostalgia. The aroma of grilled hot dogs and burgers reminded me of the America I once knew and it brought back bittersweet memories of kinder, gentler times.

And then I watch the news.

So much has changed, and yet, everything is painfully familiar. And my thoughts wander home. And suddenly I am homesick. And I worry.