 Which best describes how Edith feels about Henry's return home?
There was the usual welcoming crowd for a celebrity, and the usual speeches by the usual politicians who met him at the airport which had once been twenty miles outside of Croton, but which the growing city had since engulfed and placed well within its boundaries. Several of the churches in town had shown indecision as to how to instruct their parishioners to treat him. He wanted a meal at his own table, a kiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some old friends and a relative or two. He had traveled and he had returned and his voyage was very much like the voyages of the great mariners, from Columbus onward—long, dull periods of time passing, passing, and then the arrival. The head of the American Legion and the chief of police, who had escorted him on this trip from the square, didn't ask to go in with him. They held onto each other as if seeking mutual support, the thirty-three-year old woman and ten-year-old boy. So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, that everything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, General Carlisle, had said it would early this morning before he left Washington. Edith was leading him into the living room, her hand lying still in his, a cool, dead bird lying still in his. Carlisle had said his position was analogous to Columbus', to Vasco De Gama's, to Preshoff's when the Russian returned from the Moon—but more so.
 She is uncertain about how the Henry in front of her is different from the one who left 11 months ago
 She is uncertain about how the Henry in front of her is different from the one who left 11 months ago  She feels relieved that he made it back from his trip alive.  She is thankful that her family is now back together.  She is nervous about how the environment of Henry's trip might have changed him.