Coming HOME
The plane is full. There was an air of anticipation when we took off, the cabin filled with chatter and movement, but now we’re 18 hours into the flight, and everywhere is quiet. Most people are asleep – or trying to sleep. Some are reading, or watching films, their faces lit up by the small TV screens in front of them. Flight attendants move quietly through the cabin, collecting empty glasses and handing out blankets.
Our attendant is called Mina. She smiles as she passes, but her face is concerned, and I know she thinks we’re peculiar. It’s hardly surprising. Most of the families around us haven’t stopped talking – excited by a holiday in Australia, or seeing far-flung family,
