I returned home from university last weekend.
Stepping onto the platform, breathing steam in the gold-lighted night air, I was greeted by an announcement voiced with a thick regional accent. The accent of my very own region; it was the perfect welcome home. Then, driving through the black country roads as my family nattered to and around me.
We arrived home, to the original home where it all started and continues. There was a new welcome mat, new bowl, new soap in the bathroom. Tiny details that highlight how I have fallen out of step with the rhythm of my house.
Despite the tiny hitches the house remained mainly the same. A haven of soft materials and textures, mouth-watering scents and the sound of the wind whistling down into the hearth.
It made me miss home, it made me happy to have it all.
Sq.
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