I am leaving this tower and returning home. When I speak with family, and...

I am leaving this tower and returning home. When I speak with family, and comments are always the same, 'Won't you be glad to get back to the real world?'
This is my question after two weeks of time, only two weeks, spent with prairie dogs, 'What is real?'
What is real? These prairie dogs and the lives they live and have adapted to in grassland communities over time, deep time?
What is real? A gravel pit adjacent to one of the last remaining protected prairie dog colonies in the world? A corral where cowboys in an honest day's work saddle up horses with prairie dogs under hoof for visitors to ride in Bryce Canyon National Park?
What is real? Two planes slamming into the World Trade Center and the wake of fear that has never stopped in this endless war of terror?
What is real? Forgiveness or revenge and the mounting deaths of thousands of human beings as America wages war in Afghanistan and Iraq?
What is real? Steve's recurrence of lymphoma? A closet full of shoes? Making love? Making money? Making right with the world with the smallest of unseen gestures? How do we wish to live And with whom?
What is real to me are these prairie dogs facing the sun each morning and evening in the midst of man-made chaos.
What is real to me are the consequences of cruelty