15
Sep 11

How Was Your Trip?

I’ve been back from the States a week—I got in off the plane last Thursday morning, paid an exorbitant cab fair home to Mt. Vic from the airport, fell asleep in my clean-sheeted bed, and woke up in time to have buddies over for tea and biscuits before work the next day.

“How was your trip,” everyone asks, as you do when someone’s been away.

It was busy. It was fun. It was strange. It was overwhelming. It was low-key. It was silly. It was sad. It was gentle. It was stressful.

“It was good,” I say, as you do when you’ve been away.

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I don’t live there anymore, it’s not home: none of it, none of the places I laughed and talked and went out to dinner and held babies and took walks and introduced Americans to chocolate fish and TimTams. I’m glad I went back, though, for a visit. I will always go back, it will always be good.