Every year I return home. In spite of my need for a real break, somewhere in the sun. Apart from the fact that I love to see my sister and her family, it is mostly my parents. Do I really want to see them? Or am I just afraid of not going and one of them dies? To be honest, it is more the latter. I dread the day my dad is going to die. This is the one big thing I have no idea of how to cope with. All I can do is wait and see. Anyways, as I always make sure to also see my friends in the south-east, I can call it a holiday after all. And this year I took with me the smell and sound of alpine water as well as the light of home skies…
floatsome 