Honestly can’t wait for next week to arrive. Mumsie’s finally going to be home after a whole, long month.
No more static, unstable phone calls.
No more missed calls in the middle of the night when I’m fast asleep.
No more random visits by my relatives to ensure the house is still standing.
No more dad asking me for daily updates and pictures.
Best of all, getting to enjoy home-cooked food again.
And lunch dates.
Plus a road trip.
Plus all the stories she’s going to share with me.
Plus being woken up crazily early back again. (cause sleeping in isn’t allowed when she’s around)
Plus spending quality time together.
Just the thought of it makes me really happy. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep properly the night before, from all the excitement. I’ll probably be the jacked-up one, jumping around, anxiously waiting at the arrival hall with a big, cheesy grin on my face.
And the one who’ll constantly be yawning at work the next day due to the lack of sleep thanks to mum’s midnight flight home.
Most importantly, I’ll be feverishly praying that she’ll have a safe flight without any complications and that God grants her journey mercy throughout the way home.
I’ll be waiting. With a big, fat hug to greet her.