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Zooming towards Luneville on the train at more than three hundred kilometres an hour, it was impossible to ignore the feeling slowly building in the pit of our stomachs. It's not quite excitement and not quite anxiety, but whatever the emotion it gets stronger as we pick up the rental car and right on cue it evaporates half an hour later as we drive over the hill and catch the first sight of Lagarde.
We see the church steeple first, across the yellow Colza fields, then it disappears as we round the bend and cross the bridge over the lock, wind our way past Jacques and Maggie's house and finally to the harbour where our home awaits. There's always a minor sense of relief when we discover she's still floating, and even more as we slip under those covers and a thin layer of winter mud to find that inside is pretty much as we left it.
Then comes the excitement at being home, the unpacking can wait, it's just nice to be here even if we can't see out through the covers.
It's nice to be afloat again, but better than that, we are home.
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