I let them pull the suitcases off the belt and arrange them on our trolley. They aren’t heavy. We have three jumpers between us and six pairs of trousers. Two years in Abu Dhabi have left us ill-equipped for winter trips.
‘We’ll catch the underground,’ I tell them. ‘Trains are much more fun than cars.’
‘We want to get a taxi,’ youngest says. ‘We prefer taxis.’
‘It’s cheaper on the underground,’ I say. ‘Faster too.’ I can’t do a sum to prove either of those things.
‘I always have a murky feeling in my heart when we land,’ eldest lad says and rubs his palm in circles on his chest. ‘Do you get that?’
I put my arm around his shoulder. He has grown so tall that he can almost rest his head on mine.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘We’ll be in our apartment soon. Before it’s even dark.’ I don’t tell him, ‘Yes, I do.’
I love that last para – it’s our job, isn’t it, to jolly them along with an alternative response when in reality we agree with what they said.
Thanks for that beautiful beautiful post. It made me cry.