Across Continents

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What’s four years?

Charles had got me thinking. Four years. That’s a long time on the road. My niece, just a few weeks old when I saw her shortly before I set off, would be about to start school by the time I returned. I pictured the comings and goings of the seasons, the village fete in summer, and the joviality of friends around for drinks on Boxing Day, enjoying the generous warmth of the woodstove. Birthdays I would miss. Otherwise shared experiences that would pass me by.

Charles suspected, that for all the wonderous experiences that lay ahead, I would always be looking forward to returning home one day. Perhaps because to really appreciate what you have, you have to do without it for a while. Four years would be ample.

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