Time Travelling Again

If the past five months went quickly, the last two weeks have simply dissolved.

The house is habitable and (mostly) furnished and we have been able to thoughtfully dispose of much that which was too large for the new more diminutive spaces. Actually they are more like the spaces that we were accustomed to for all but the last eight years, so it's a bit like pulling on a favourite old pair of jeans that one hasn't worn for a while, right down to being the same length but not quite wide enough in spots, but if we breath in we still fit.

Yesterday, mid afternoon we declared it done and drove the rental car to the big smoke in a sort of jet lagged fug. This is not necessarily a good thing when one hasn't yet commenced one's journey, and it must be said that we left with the feeling that there simply weren't enough goodbyes to go round properly, wondering how those we hold dear have put up with our busyness for the past few months.

Suddenly it all stopped. The Big E hid his tears behind his shades, ours held off until we were out of sight. We were in the air, and the washing machine that has been our life turned off, we left the roller coaster and ran to the merry go round.

Here we sit in Singapore. In transit, in our old seats in the Qantas Club, trying to believe that we have actually been home, trying to come to terms with all that has happened in that time, excited to be seeing our Northern friends.

By dawn we will be in Paris.