Degrees of home coming

The lunch with a friend well enjoyed. The presents for birthdays deliberated on, purchased, and sweetly singing on the seat beside me, and now the home coming starts. Leaving the motorway. Reaching Galston – that is nearly home. Then the quiet road, and the track, the track. Once I am on the track I can be sure there will not be an accident, I won’t be a car sandwich as on the horrible occasion in the spring. Then the first gate. There. Shut behind me. This is really safe territory now. Only the friendly neighbours and myself live and move and have our being here. Then the bumpy track. Can I spot an owl? Oh I know that old ewe. Look, the barn owl, that’s the male. Then the second gate. There are the lights of Killie – let each one stand for a friendly soul. A pony calls out to me in the dark. Another answers him – will she feed us, do you think? Then the door, the room. Home. Really truly home.