Coming Home

It was 9am and I had just endured another lonely night in an empty bed. The phone rang:
"I need some things"
"OK, hang on and I'll get a pen ... fire away"
"A coat and a car seat"
It took a moment for me to understand. Her coat had been soaked after her waters broke on the way to the hospital.
"You're coming home! You're coming home!"

When I got to the hospital everything had been packed and was ready to go. I made several trips to the car, remembering how many times I had walked this route in the last few days. This time I was walking on air.

Gradual changes often go unnoticed, so my wife, who had been hospitalised for over a week, had to point out to me that the daffodils and tulips were in bloom. Our daughter's birth had coincided with the start of spring.

We returned home, pausing only to take a photograph of my wife and our little bundle of joy outside our house. We put Cate down into her moses basket and looked at each other with the same thought:
"So now what?"