Meum cerebrum nocet

It's some unearthly hour on the last day of term, and I'm blogging again because my sleep was interrupted by a text message (cue creepy sense of deja vu). Almost unreal, this feeling that I'll be home withing 36 hours. Back in the sticky warmth I was born into, the familiar-forgotten smiles through airport glass, the security of my parents' arms around me, the hour-long drive home when my inner world slowly unwinds on the road to rest, the collapse of barriers when the door closes behind me and I am surrounded by the spaces and objects that define me.

There is a part of us that will always remain the child who once fell asleep in its mother's lap, the child who saw eternity in the thrilling moments of being swung from a pair of strong arms, the child who yearned to grow up so fast. I suppose it's this need of security and care-lessness that gives rise to religions and systems of belief that places accountability on powers beyond ourselves. But we all grow, and the once-small glass that was so easy to fill takes more and more effort to be fulfilled. In life, one can only hope to segue from dawn to dusk.