By Reina Free
A few days after Christmas I had to go to Holland to settle some family matters. The approaching of the Dutch coast, the dunes, seeing the land cut out in squares and oblong shapes, always gave me an inner emotion of coming home.
For many years, especially when my mother was alive, I went to Holland every month. I had my bike, my own place in the pew of my church, many friends. This changed after the death of my mother, yet I still could not say “Goodbye”. But this time I began to notice a change in me. I began to feel a ‘foreigner’ in my own country, in my own village even. This feeling made me feel sad and was quite unsettling.
On my way back to England, looking down and seeing the coastline beneath me, a feeling of joy came over me. I felt and knew I was really coming home. I realise now that having lived here for so many years I have also become a bit English in quite a few ways – not all! The people who know me will agree.
As I walked along King’s Lane, ‘pot-holes and all’, seeing the fields and hills now covered in snow with new life stirring beneath – wheat and barley – and along the hedgerows snowdrops, I felt so happy. I know so many people, good, very lovely friends, kindness in abundance. I am so grateful. Here I belong.
Goodness me, it’s good to be home.