It was about lunchtime, yet my brain didn’t really know what time or day it was. I’d been travelling for over 30 hours and my weary body was pleased to have finally landed.
I didn’t know what was waiting for me behind the arrival gates. Would he be there at the front with a big banner, flowers and a flash mob? I doubted it, but you see it in films right? YOU NEVER KNOW.
Nerves wrestled with tiredness and excitement as I walked through the gates and scanned the faces in front of me. I finally spotted him, way behind the crowd, big smile on his face.
“I made it. And so did my luggage.” I laughed.
“Yep. You made it.” he said, drawing me in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me close. “Welcome to New Zealand.”
He drove me home. My new home. His home. I looked out the window at the unfamiliar houses and streets. My stomach lurched as I realised that this was it. I’d left the UK. I was here now.
Getting out of the car I took a deep breath. The air was different. And not just because I’d been breathing in recirculated air on a plane for 30 hours.
No, it was fresh and clear. Crisp. Tinged with the smell of summer; fresh flowers and grass. The sun was warm and so was the hand on my back that guided me towards the door.
No going back.