I felt it tonight. That feeling you get when the plane touches down, the train pulls into the station, your car turns onto your street. You see the lights of your city, the taxi creeps closer and cuts over the hill to the bridge. Driving into Hobart in a taxi is something I have experienced so often as the daughter of travellers. I have been away for weeks (never this long) but have always felt that pull when you see it. Felt the bubbles rise in my stomach. These bright lights sneaking under your tired eyelids and bringing you back from your voyages.
I felt it tonight. I saw the chain link fences that run by St Pierre des Corps train station, lit up in the dark as the train sped by. I saw the old trains lined in the concrete yards out there, eerie in their loneliness. The other people began to stand and collect their luggage, call their families and say they were close. The bright lights of the Carrefour and the rise over the hill before the speeding down into my city. Because it is my city.
And I thought "home".
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