Home and melancoly, at the luggage belt

Chere Soso,

Back home now. Gone is the freezing winter of Europe, and here returns the lovely autumn.

Back too is the ever-inevitable renovation noise.

Again, too busy travelling by bus and plane and watching films at the plane, only when I was waiting for my well-worn and ugly backpack at the luggage belt at the airport (and it's quite a long wait) that the melancoly set in. Why am I here? I thought.

Getting back home is quite easy, at dinner (and TV soap) time in the evening when the streets were quite quiet. No neighbours saw me, thank God.

As before, I couldn't quite recognise my now no-so-familar home when I first entered it, after 2 months away. It always seemed a bit too bright back home from a trip.

Luckily enough, the few pots of plants remained that worried me much when I left were not all dead. Some are sick, some are dead or quite dead, and one remained healthy.

I should be grateful that I have a safe trip, not having lost too much hair (but only a lipbalm, a plug adaptor and some tears).

The good thing is, it's finally the 'boxing day' of all my purchases and souvenirs of my trip (though I haven't really bought many things).

Not least the long-missed home food. Perhaps it could easily drive away the little sadness of being far from Europe. After all, the cold winter has already come.

Waiting for another printemps. Maybe the next one, who knows?