Home and Away

Dear Mum,

I’m curled up on the family sofa, a cup of tea is in hand and a bar of Dairy Milk balances on the sofa arm beside me. Various family members smile down at me from the lounge wall. The clock is pealing in Dad’s study.

Neither you nor Dad are here. You are on your way to Washington for a two week east-coast expedition.

It’s great to be house-sitting. You’ve generously jammed the cupboards and fridge. And it’s a treat to have a dishwasher waiting for me to feed it its own dinner.

But there is something somewhat eerie about a large empty house, particularly one you’re familiar with. Memories haunt the house; the corner that the Christmas tree adorns and we congregate around on Christmas morning, the far end of the kitchen table where you do your weekly paperwork.

Now it’s just space. No amount of nostalgic recollection fills it.

Instead, my childhood fears trail after me. I can’t help but scout around dark rooms to double check that nothing is hiding and preparing to pounce.

It’s foolish and ridiculous, I know. My cheeks flush with embarrassment as my phantom followers laugh and point at my silliness from their hiding places.

A graduate, who has lived in rough student areas and I’m frightened of my suburban home of which I know every wall fissure, every groaning floorboard, every alcove.

I thus turn to a good friend of mine; vodka. To ease my night terrors and lull me into some sense of comfort.  This is, I would say, the finest company for a night-in.

Missing you x