I'm coming home

I remember the longing,
the absolute hunger to be home.
I remember counting down the days.
I remember shopping for gifts,
and worrying about the weight of my suitcase.
I remember watching weather forecasts every night for a month,
and praying that my boat/airplane would get me home before the storm.
I remember not being able to sleep with excitement.
I remember leaving far too early and hanging around cold train stations,
 and later sweating in airports.
I remember seeing old men cry silent tears.

I remember  crying in the arms of loved ones 'I'm home. I'm home.'
Then, I remember the smell of turf,
the sound of soft Irish accents,
the taste of familiar foods.
I remember a sense of pride,
that I had money in my pocket,
money that I had earned myself.
I remember moments when I sat,
and watched the smiling faces,
and felt that sense of belonging...

And I carried all that goodness,
back to London with me,
until it was time to come home again.