Home

The driveway winds around and down - away from the proud wooden house with its bright geranium beds contrasting against the ancient wood. An elderly woman waves a handkerchief from the front stairs as a man stands behind her in tears with one hand on a cane and the other on her shoulder. They slowly get absorbed into the distance as we pick up speed and turn out of sight. I turn to my mother and see tears silently spilling down her face as she stares down the road ahead of us with a quiet expression on her face. I try to imagine her as a child and all of times that they’ve stood on the steps waving at a car slowly driving away from them, but in the moment I can’t picture it. She turns to look into my blue eyes and blinks a few times staring but not speaking. She smiles as I push the the tears from her cheeks with my hand. “We’re going home…” I say, trying to reassure her. She turns to my father in the front seat and grabs his hand to give it a tight squeeze. “Yes we are” she says quietly.

The long country lane stretches through an orchard and away from the large white stone house. A woman waves weakly from an upstairs window as our car rattles towards the main road and out of sight. I turn to my father and see tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he navigates us away from his childhood home. I try to think of him as a young man, driving cattle down the road we are now driving, playing with his brothers in the orchard or knocking over buckets of milk in the shed by accident, but in the moment I can’t imagine it. My mother looks longingly at him but says nothing. I squeeze his shoulder from the backseat and his hands grip the steering wheel intensely, focusing on the road as if he hasn't driven it thousands of times before. “We’re going home” I say. The tears eventually leave their corners and fall down his face with no resistance. Turning to my mother he gives her hand a tight squeeze and whispers to her “yes we are…”

I close the door and roll the window down as I put the car into gear. I take a deep breath and wave as I pull out into the street and begin to drive away, the green house getting smaller in the rear-view mirror. From the end of the street I can still see them standing on the stairs, holding each other and watching me drive out of sight. I shut my eyes and grip the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to steady myself. I have left before, and they have watched me go with a deep pride in their eyes however this time it felt different. “Are you OK?” she says to me as I open my eyes and fight back the damn tears. I answer her question with silence as I avoid meeting her eyes for a moment and focus on the road, blinking the tears away and pretending like I haven't driven this path thousands of times. I eventually turn to look at her and she smiles reassuringly giving my hand a loving squeeze. “We’re going home” she says…