Tomorrow. Or the next day. I think.
With heavy eyes and our hearts soaking wet, our plane circled London in a morning sky that looked more like a sunset â€“ a large stroke of hot pink sat squarely on the horizon. The grass and the grey both might have been colored in on black and white film; the light was the kind that photographers dream about… Through the tiny window on the plane I watched London rise as I fell that familiar, steady, controlled-fall into the maze of pavement.
London has a strange new smell since weâ€™ve been gone. It smells like dark and winter chill. Itâ€™s perfect. Itâ€™s exactly what I needed. Londonâ€™s cold shoulder is like music to my ears.
While I was having a smashing time showing my sister the inner-workings of my day-to-day life in the big wide London-town, we got news that Granny Young was ill. She’s doing fine now, thanks for asking, but the news of Granny’s illness was enough to get us on a flight home. Like I said, Granny is a trooper and we’ve returned to the daily grind, but somehow returning gave me an unexpected feeling. When I can put my finger on exactly what feeling that was I will let you know.
Until then, I would just like to say ‘Thank God for babies’. Just look at them. Gorgeous. Yummy. Snuggle-able.