At the airport I smile at his ridiculous car.
He looks tired, but I don't say it, I'm tired too.
My suitcase in the boot, my hand on his shoulder, we drive away.
The headlights flicker - an electrical fault making it's presence known.
I feel a pang of guilt for making him drive such an old and problematic car, but I smile and say "I'll fix it tomorrow".
The dogs bark and wag a celebration for the returning hero.
Familiarity and comfort wrap around me and I begin to relax.
My heart is here.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
A poem of sorts
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