(I wrote this 5 weeks ago on my last night in the UK, found it in Notes on my phone today... so I'm sharing it :) ) Far far away my baby is sleeping. Well he's almost four but he's still my baby. He's nearly 17000 kilometers away. I miss him, especially in the morning and most acutely at night time, when I'm dog-tired and I want to know my children and Other Half are safe and close. Tomorrow Moo and I fly home. Home to home. One side of the world to the other. So so so far. I don't know when I'll be back to the UK, and it's a retch to leave the hanging baskets of pansies, the skies filled with planes, the sound of the car wash across the street that my Dad and Step Mum pretend is the sea. It's a retch to leave my Dad. His uniform of black jeans and reeboks, his funny half pretend explosions of temper at people who might deserve it. My Dad has moved since I was here last. This house is charming, it is a lovely home and I have been so ...
Oversharing is my form of caring