On 22 November we boarded our plane. After settling the children down I sat looking out of the window at the Rock but I didn’t see it even though it was staring me in the face; all I saw were images. Alameda Gardens, the back streets of the Old Town, Rosia, Montague Pavillion, the Piazza, Catalan Bay……
As the flight stewardess came around checking everyone’s seat belts she stopped at our seats to make a big fuss of the children who were all dressed in their best and looking gorgeous. Briefly my mind came back into the present moment to enjoy seeing my children being admired before slipping back into its abstract world of memories to the sound of the ever increasing noise of the engines revving up ready for take off.
As the plane began to move all my thoughts and words were blanked out and replaced with what felt like a shower of memories coming the other way. Three hours later it was all over. As though it had never happened.