By far, the hardest part of our little get away was the return home. My things were in this house that we now live, in a country I have yet to successfully converse with, yet to feel embraced by familiarity or calmed by memories of contentmet, and yet my things were here, in this house that we returned to.
After we did return, I sort of stumbled around in a mild daze with aimless motivation. I did a little washing, sorting through the new Christmas toys, finding places for new things and of course, the good old clean out the fridge routine. Thoughts of the new year rapidly approaching niggled like an optimistic friend trying to cheer you up when only sinking into a pot of chocolate would do. Yep, hubby was going on his next rotation soon, something none of us have become accustomed to, if one ever does.
It didn’t help that the bike I had held at a local home/store was sold from under my feet. It was a gorgeous vintage bike with a really big brown leather seat and matching timber handles. I turned up to collect my bike after the required repairs were to be completed only to have a different one shown to me. This time I surprised myself as my spanish was very clear, I was handed my money and I left. I’m sure they learnt a new english word in the process – ‘unbelievable’. Yeah, I was really disappointed, ‘unbelievably disappointed’
Well …. not to worry (insert saying of doors closing and opening etc). We bought a new one and it’s a boy … he has a few Moustaches on the thing that guards the chain so naturally his name will be Mr.
It’s nice to have my own set of wheels again, some independence without explaining to anyone what I want to do or where I want to go, in a language I don’t speak. So real or not, I have a new set of wheels. Welcome to the family Mr. Mr.