No more looking back, wanting the wasted day to move at speed. No more wishing for wistful home time - feet out in the cold, pattering away like rain, to the car.
I'm home - the cloister corridors echo it. The tall, arched doorways and columned court yard passage open as I pass - recognising me. At last.
The day could not start too soon, nor last too long - the trodden stone stairs and history won't let go of me. They knew this day would come. that I would come. And here I am.
Smiling, from toe to static hair, floating along passageways, walking through walls.
I recite the sonnets, board and mortared; raise the aged scroll above my head in testimony to undulating journey, wavering faith. Reward. the gates have opened -breathe in the incense, the frankinsence and mirth - the old boys appaluse, eyes proud and approving as I sail into the harbour of the school; and finally lay anchor. Home time.
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