return

To expand on my last post, I'd love to go on a long journey down a 400-series highway. Partly because of the way everything seems greener and smells nicer an hour outside the city. But also because the act of leaving always carries with it the promise of return. And isn't this anticipation of homecoming one of the greatest feelings to hold on to? I may have complained about London and all its resulting homesickness before, but this homesickness always ended with a train ride from London to Brampton, and that moment just past Georgetown when I'd put away the boring novel and take the headphones out of my ears because I knew I was almost home. I'd be the first person to get up from her seat; the one who stands by the doors and the one everyone inevitably follows. I wouldn't even need help with my suitcase as I jumped off the train. My mom and dad would be waiting on the platform, and my mom would be waving. My dad would pat me on the back as he took my suitcase from me and headed towards the car. My mom would hug me and call me Dear (or maybe Sweetie) as we trailed behind my Dad. There would be chewy fruit snacks and a bag of ketchup rice cakes waiting for me in the backseat and my mom would say "we're so glad to have you home."