May 18, 2012

My dearest,

I hear the key turn. The front door. You are back. You open — I open — the door and we are already smiling at each other.

How was the flight?

Delayed, you say and I help you with your bag. You take off your shoes and then your socks. You tell me about your hotel room and the rain shower and the shower stool. You tell me how the hotel was near airport and the famous Chatuchak Market (which you didn’t get to visit since it wasn’t the weekend). You tell me about the crispy fried fish you had and the salted egg yolk squid which may be even better than our favourite near our home. You tell me all this and more.

I listen, happy that you are back. We used to do this all the time, back when I was flying all over the place for work. Nowadays I don’t. It’s a role reversal, you travelling for a meeting and coming back to tell about your adventures. It’s a role reversal but then again, it’s the pretty much the same.

Welcome home, I say.

Yours, ever and always.