Change of Pace/ Sarajevo
… Then for Odysseus they spread a rug and a linen sheet on the deck of the hollow ship at the stern, that he might sleep soundly; and he too went aboard, and laid him down in silence. Then they sat down on the benches, each in order, and loosed the hawser from the pierced stone. And as soon as they leaned back, and tossed the brine with their oarblades, sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, an unawakening sleep, most sweet, and most like to death. And as on a plain four yoked stallions spring forward all together beneath the strokes of the lash, and leaping on high swiftly accomplish their way, even so the stern of that ship leapt on high, and in her wake the dark wave of the loud-sounding sea foamed mightily, and she sped safely and surely on her way; not even the circling hawk, the swiftest of winged things, could have kept pace with her…
(Homer: The Odyssey)
All of a sudden, the convoluted, seemingly unending journey is brought around within about a paragraph. He falls asleep, and when he wakes up, Odysseus is on home soil.
Just like that.
My return from Iraq also involves a chance of pace. The pregnancy is advancing, I am uncomfortable in the restricted space of the campervan and, with one or two medical conditions, would like to register with a hospital sooner than the camper could get us back.
More to the point, I have an intense wish to find us a home while I still can; to no longer be a visitor. For now, the open road has lost its allure. The awareness that my new state of mind is hormonally driven makes no difference.
I fly to London with Ziggy via Sarajevo, leaving Simon to drive the camper back.
Just like that.