The sleek, black car sped into the night. The man at the wheel stifled a yawn. The woman next to him looked ahead with a bored face. Only the four year old prancing on her lap was excited and full of life.
“Is the sun up yet?” he said, at the top of his voice.
“No, honey,” said the woman, “and please don’t shout.”
“Is he brushing his teeth now?” The volume stayed where it was.
“I assume he will be doing that in…” with a glance at her watch, “about half an hour now.”
“Is he sleeping now?”
He sat back, silent for half a second before plunging into non-stop chatter about his friends the Dinosaurs, the shapeless models he made with clay and the magic he carried in his hands.
Noticing the row of lights ahead, he suddenly asked, “Is this the airport?”
“Yes… this is one end of it.”
The chatter continued as if there was no break.
“Would you like to sleep for a while?” she interrupted.
“No! No! I want to see the sun wake up.” His eyes were eagerly taking in the view ahead, a sight that could excite only a four year old.
“You can see the sea before we land,” said she, trying to share with him some of her own love for her home-town, “and coconut trees – lots of them – that look like a jungle.”
“Okay,” replied the child. “Look – is that rotating light searching for planes?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
They parted ways at the airport, the man back to his car after seeing them enter the lounge, and the woman and child to check their bags in.
As the plane prepared to land, she leaned forward to catch the vast sea stretched below them with the coconut jungle on one side, the waves, barely visible, lashing against the shores, as if welcoming them home. She looked at her son, her suppressed excitement shining through her eyes, and found him fast asleep.
“We are home,” she whispered.