In the morning wave upon wave of geese flew over.
I love this view from mum’s window. You can see them rising up from the marsh and heading inland to the fields to gather and feed.

A final clear up. My sister came over and we packed up, had a quick walk out on the bank and came back in time to hand the keys over to the estate agent.
We walked up to the pub for lunch, a final farewell to the neighbours and headed off on our separate ways.

As I drove back I was overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness and pulled over in a lay-by for a while.
As I pushed on I thought about the 33 years I’d been making this journey, numerous times each year, and the changes I’d seen on each of the major roads in that time, all barely recognisable over that period. So much has changed in that time and it felt like the oddest limbo of a journey going from nothing to nothing. All gone at either end, partners at one end, parents and home at the other.

That most evocative place of the plaintive cry of a curlew, the constancy of the rhythm of the tides, the sheer wonder of the skeins of geese calling you in to the landscape, and then, more latterly, the house, have all been anchors throughout.