Home for Christmas

it’s “climate-change-is-real” weather
a toasty 15 degrees on the 25th
an ambitious “barbeque christmas” mum says in glee
as she pulls shades from the glovebox.

two hands on the wheel
she leans and smiles
“you know i prefer British weather to back home.
variety. i like variety.”

then she laughs
“you know, i can’t even tie my gele
the way i used to. it’s funny
how you forget these things”

i smile back, squinting ahead.
the smell of pepper soup drifting forward from the back seat

Home, whether sleet or heat,
Home is where the soul feeds.

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