It’s a long drive home

I have done many journeys in time, varying distance, various modes of transport, and you would have thought that the journey outwards would seem longer. You’re excited and want to get started, or apprehensive and don’t want to get there, something along them lines anyway. Yet I often find the journey home longer, looking back over memories, wishing you had done something differently, wishing you had had longer, wishing, longing, regretting, missing and hoping. There is also the prospect of waiting on the return journey home, the prostect of waiting to see loved ones, familiar places, occurences, correspondants. The journey is often agonising through tiredness, and longing, and possibly even painful from the position you have been sitting on a coach for the last 27 hours, with another 9 to go. The journey home marks a passing of an event, often you have changed for the better or for the worse. What is scarier is when you realise you are journeying home alone, that takes more getting use to, its an even longer journey…

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