It was the drive she liked most. Having the car all to herself, not looking over her shoulder or in the rear view mirror every few minutes to check the baby was ok. She didn’t have to make baby conversation with her son in an effort to provide comfort. The long highway could see her bopping her head to loud music or daydreaming to none: her choice. She would keep checking the time on the dashboard knowing that soon enough she would be pulling in to the long sandy driveway leading up to her shambled nook and it wouldn’t be the same as when she pulls in to her drive way at home. No one would be greeting her at the door. No one would be expecting a kiss or a cuddle. No one would be talking about his or her day. It would be empty and silent: And she loved that she was ok with that, looked forward to it even.
The white lines on the road would become hypnotising and her plans for arrival and the weekend would appear in a daydream. It would start out by opening the wooden door she had just replaced and leaving it open, hooking it to the wall behind. No one needed to be kept in, no safety gate or child lock need be prepared. No tiny body would be clambering at her feet trying to run towards the lapping ocean. She would open the wine fridge and pull out a crisp Sav Blanc, her favourite, but only one wine glass to partner it. She would pause as a little pang moved across her chest, the usual feeling when she only saw one glass. Her husbands company, especially over a nice wine is one of her favourite things in her marriage. The pang would pass as usual and she would pour the wine generously. She would kick off her shoes; plug the iPod dock in to the outside outlet and slump into the hammock on the front deck, letting one foot graze the sand as she swung. A quick text would be flicked to her husband letting him know she had arrived safely and was just settling in and she would give him a call later adding of course how much she loved him and to smooch their son on her behalf.
The first sip was always the true meaning to no longer having anything to do but to stop, relax and enjoy. She would enjoy one wine and the moment that partnered it and then she would unpack the car before pouring a second. During her third when she was unpacked and feeling hungry she would wander along the sandy shore to the local fish and chip shop and order dinner. And she would enjoy every salty, oily bite.
Tomorrow she would be putting on her hard hat, metaphorically speaking, and get to working on the nook or her book, whichever she felt most inspired to do.