Mum at the airport

Mum is there to meet us at Heathrow Airport and she smells just like Mum. Dad is holding a charity day and we'll see him home later on today. I've taken the 10hr flight from Los Angeles to London with the boys and, on the cusp of arriving at the airport, Callum decides party time's over, it's time to sleep.

I hand my camera to the guy who's kindly helped us off the plane, all the way beyond Customs to where Mum's waiting for me. I have the boys, two car seats, 3 cases, a double stroller and my camera and video bags with me.

Outside, Mum reaches for the mobile given to her by Dad and to which she's unaccustomed to using.

"Och, let me just call Chris (her friend and black cab driver) and tell him where we are. Oh, how do I work this thing?". 40 years after leaving Glasgow, there is a still a faint and sweet Scottish accent to her voice, much like her sister Angie in Los Angeles.

"Just here Mum" I reassure her. The helper has to reassure Mum too that Chris will be able to find us easily if we stand here, that is, whilst been given my camera to capture this precious moment of seeing mum again after a year. The helper clicked at the wrong time, but in doing so, made the photo.

We drive through the streets of London, an unusual choice, avoiding the M25 outside rush hour, but, thoroughly enjoying all the glorious familiar sights in my favourite city. Yet Callum will have none of sitting on anyone else's lap but my own and screams the whole taxi journey back to Upminster as I need the space to give Reuben a tube feed and breathing treatment whilst we battle with cases falling on each other's laps. Mum has the patience of a saint. Callum has jetlag.

Ah, the familiar smell as we walk through the door, past Grandad's WWI medals and portraits of my grandparents, past the wedding photos and that woozy feeling, desperation for some sleep comes over me and yet there's a whole day ahead of us. Into the garden we go, the boys running around discovering everything new and old, sipping water from the birdbath or picking Dad's prized flowers, chasing the bumble bees in the lavender, or sitting down at the little red and green plastic table which Dad has set up for them.

I'm home!