I watched two films, read one book and miraculously managed a bit of sleep, sandwiched in a small seat between a chubby and physically invasive Czech woman and an elderly giant German man who couldn't stop coughing. I told myself "Just imagine that you will be walking the streets of Paris in a few hours and that these interminable hours on the plane will be nothing more than a vague memory..."
My faithful and long time friend Jan was there to pick me up at the airport as he's done many times in the past, in spite of the early hour (6 a.m.). "Our little airport routine!" he said with a big smile, without a hint of a yawn.
The journey into the city usually allows us to inform each other of our respective state of life whilst marvelling at the beautiful sunrise on the freeway.
We headed to Dennis' flat - I had decided to opt for a new strategy and stay at his place, so to constantly bring a fresh element of surprise and joy on each of my visit to my parents, thus allowing myself some space and not being caught in a self-destructive pattern.
My mother was sitting on the piano bench as I opened the door. She dashed to me and gave me a big hug. "So glad you passed by!!!" she joked.
"We were just calling Jan, because we didn't know when exactly you'd arrive" my father said, with the phone still in hand.