Homecoming

The pilot’s announcement broke her uneasy, literally pain-in-the-neck slumber. She checked her watch. Nearly time.

She looked out of the tiny hole that passed for window on a plane. And there spread below her were a million lights. Winking at her. Beckoning her home.

Home. She was returning home. With the goddess. Today, she returned home with the Mother of the world. With one difference. The Mother would go away in four days. But she – she would stay. The thought pleased her.

She pressed her nose to the glass pane. She felt like a child again, excitedly picking out her favourites from a million, glittering marbles. She always played this guessing game from high above. Trying to identify the roads, the landmarks. Was that sliver of dark water really the mighty river that sustained this old, old city?

Home. The word warmed her cockles. The city would be all decked up. A bride. Such a clichéd comparison, but apt. And this bride would be happy and beautiful for months to come. Perfect time for homecoming.

She tried not to think of her exile. At that time, when she went away, it had not seemed so. She had thought that she was going to a new home. Cleaner. Modern. Greener. How naive!

Now, she knew better. Your home should reflect you. You should not reflect the home. It should not mould you, adapt you, decorate you, to be more like itself. She had realized it late. But not too late, she hoped. No, not too late. She had to believe that.

She watched the lights rush towards her. And like always, she wanted to scoop them in her plams and scatter them. In the air. On the ground. To burst like firecrackers. Or fall gently like shimmering pearls. Those, she could imagine, as woven into the world’s most beautiful necklace.

The plane landed with a thud. She leant back against her seat and braced herself for the impact. Through the ringing in her ears, she smiled. Home. With the Mother. This time. next time, she would welcome the goddess. Promise.