I wake up without an alarm, in my childhood room.
I can’t remember when I last slept a full night.
Still I feel slow. Still sad.
My mother comes sit at my bedside like so many times before. She talks about a dish brush that can last up to forty years. Apparently you only need to wash it in the wash machine and it remains like new.
We have coffee and avocado sandwiches. I tell her about the last couple of weeks and tears quickly fill up my eyes. It’s been tough. Change always is.
What hasn’t changed is the town I grew up in.
I bike around the city pond, the canals, the fisherman’s houses.
Familiar faces, familiar feelings.
I go visit old friends and their families. One has a daughter of 1,5 years and we play with her toys while my friend is preparing supper. Another just had her second child, also a daughter, and we take a beautiful stroll along the harbour while the baby is sleeping. One friend cancels her coffee date, because she suddenly had to go into delivery. A few hours later, I get a text saying that their third child, has arrived well and happy.
My best friend’s children are 5 and 7 years old. I haven’t even started.
1 week from now I am travelling on an open-ended ticket to Asia, without much of a plan.
Some people would probably say, that hasn’t changed much either.