Driving Home

I’m driving home,
taking in suburban lights
the dark river’s gleaming metal
bitter aftertaste of generic coffee
on my lips,
I’m indicating
my intention to turn West
to wind my way along the River Road
heading home
tired from the day’s events
and babysitting grandchildren
in an almost empty house
sandwiches for tea
tantrums and kisses
the youngest
shifting too quickly
too sharply
on my dodgy knee
the dull ache
travelling with me.
I’m going home
to my husband
and schnitzel
for a late tea
in our half renovated house
rain on the windscreen
wipers lulling me
to sleep
AWAKE
to sleep
struggling to keep
the dream at bay
the reality of their going away.
I pull in
to our shadowed driveway
lock up the car
and gravitate toward the light
the welcome of windows
and schnitzel in the pan
my husband’s familiar face.
Suburbs away
the children sleep
to dream another day
before last goodbyes
and another interstate flight.