After a year of absence, seven hours in the air and a relatively unimpressive flight, I’m back.
Back to the quiet old neighbourhood, where everything seems the same, yet somehow not quite. The multitude of young faces that remind me of how I was once like them, idle and free with nary a care in the world.
Back to the moist and stuffy heat, where shade is a welcome thing. And yep, it’s not hay fever after all – I’m just having a serious bout of flu.
Back to meeting old friends and having fun. For a few hours, it feels like the old times once more, as if I’d never left.
Back to the annual sifting of junk mail and insurance letters. Damn does that ton of crap pile up over the course of a year.
So damn tired, I kept dozing off on the bus rides.
So damn tired, I’m seriously amazed my eyes haven’t been rubbed clean out of their sockets yet.
So damn tired, it’s a miracle I’m still alive to type this out.
And of course, I’m back to being a son for a while. Just another bloke who’s back home for a few days, and not the tired father of one.
Time for some uninterrupted sleep at long last.