Hearing the coos, I’m transported home. To hot sunny mornings in our tin can Muscateer Sprite caravan, lying on the top bunk with the sun fighting through brown curtains. Outside, the glories of the Hampshire forest and the promise of cornflakes and strange-tasting English milk to welcome the day. To a double bed in a peaceful room staring at the cherry blossom trees outside our window shining in the August heat, feeling the soft breaths of our day-old son lying beside me with his fists tucked under his chin. To a straight road lined with proud, red villas and lush green trees in the middle of a Middle Eastern desert. An early dog walk in anticipation of work to come, unpacking our lives afresh. Breathing in some rare fresh Qatari morning air, soaking in the morning sun and listening to the sounds of home.
By Sinéad O’Rourke
Photo by Birch Landing Home from StockSnap
