Sleep

I don't sleep anymore, but the funny thing is, I don't mind. My mantra has become: I can sleep when I get home.

Home. The word has come to mean so much to me lately. Home is comfortable, familiar, a place you couldn't imagine never turning to, a sanctuary. I feel like in a small way London has become my home. Kensington Gardens my sanctuary. When I needed to get away, the garden provided me with the air to breathe and the space to do it in.

But the things pulling me back are strong. The mountains. Watermelon. Dry heat rising off the asphalt. Family barbeques. Swimming suits and sprinklers. Twin-pops. Driving with the windows down. Mom. Dad. OlderandWiserToo. LilLou. Mogli. The whole lot. I miss them.

This time tomorrow I'll be half way home. Or will I be half way from home? Little pieces of me are planted all over. It's splendid.