I just said Goodbye to my Mum at the airport. She's heading back to England, flying high, while I got stuck in traffic jams coming home. The house feels empty, the bedroom still has her perfume, and her skin lotion's staring at me from the bathroom shelf. But Mum's not there. I guess I ought to get busy cleaning and washing or clearing those branches in the yard. But instead I think I'll retire into imagination and read a book.
'Bye Mum. I hope you're enjoying the book you packed to read on the plane. I hope you have nice neighbors in the seats next to you. And I hope the weather's fine.