Going back - an ode to hospitality

Princess Morag had the privilege of returning to the old realm to visit over Christmas and New Year.  She was able to rekindle friendships in person that have been kept alive in the intervening time through the power of phones and internet.  She was so happy to know that her joy at going home was shared by those who she most longed to see.




Her kitchen held the past and the present.  The kettle boiling, like always, but now it was a little girl watching us as we waited while the boys, who had grown, ran around, and wrestled.  There was a welcome, and as we chatted there was a silent hum of the things that didn't need said, but could be felt, between us.  We had shared defining moments of our lives, we have been witnesses to each other.

Crossing the threshold after knocking and not waiting very long.  I knew I was safe to just enter.  I was welcome here.  My past life was staring at me from every direction.  Baby boy clothing on their son I hadn't yet met that took me back six years in an instant.  Jigsaw puzzles, toys and even the couch my pregnant self had slept on and had been the centre of my living room.

A new home: bigger, better, I knew how long she'd waited and was glad for her.  Easily slipping into conversation, we returned to our usual straight-talking style.  Truth-tellers who like to laugh, that's us.  We are survivors and strivers.

A glass of water in my hand, the same cheeky smile and red hair staring at me, so watchful and alert but taller and missing teeth.  A small space, but familiar and warmed by the affection that was always reserved for me there.  I was sorry there was so little time.

Friends, hospitality, belonging, as if no time had passed when really it had been more than two years.  I was glad to be there.  I was beloved.