So, obviously, I'm back in the UK. The flight was gross and uncomfortable and there wasn't enough whiskey to raise my spirits (pun intended).
I knew it was going to be different coming into the house. The sofa would be gone-that sofa that used to be in our old house that all my friends slept on when they'd had too much to drink and didn't want to go home.
In place of the sofa was a hospital bed that emitted the occasional mechanical sighs as it pushed air through the mattress to move it to prevent bed sores on my mum.
And my mum, my dear mum.
As I came through the door, terrified at what may greet me, and even more terrified that I may not be able to hide my fears-M from next door was feeding my mum a cup of tea. That image was enough to bring me to tears, instead, M made a quick exit and mum managed to say "hi baby!"
It was so good to see mum, I was exhausted from the flight and my aunt went over a little about medication, how to raise the bed etc. I grabbed a chair, sat next to mum and held her hand and just talked. I spoke to her about nothing and everything until she was tired and I went to bed.
I passed out and woke at 4am due to insane jetlag...I wasn't sure whether I was here or there, which continent, which cat I could expect to jump on my bed and what was to come; but I was with mum-that's all that matters.