When I Was A Little Girl

I used to listen to my dad tell me about his adventures travelling around the USSR, the cold, the rusty old planes, the hours of travel, then life in Rome, the little Fiat, the few words of a new language. We used to say one day we'd travel together, and those moments inspired my love of the world, of geography, of language.

Now dad just wants to know when I'll be back. Doesn't ask where I'm going, why I'm going there, who, how. Just when will I be back, nodding with a sullen face.

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Taking a little break from blogging until I go: I need to clear my mind and think straight, in non-blogging snippets.