After 40 days

I just can't tell you what it's like, after 40 days of displacement, to see your children running up stairs and down hallways. 

To trip over Thomas and his friend Clarabel, tracks winding from the sitting room to the kitchen, long packed away and now breathing fresh air with the wee lad who has inherited them. 

To give an after school snack to your eldest, the sliding glass doors to the back garden framing his sturdy head as he bends over homework, the green of shrubs reflecting off the glare in his specs. 

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