In the waning light, with warm colours painting the horizon, bidding farewell to the day, I remember the first time I crossed that bridge. Suitcase on my lap, gazing out across the water through the grimy windows of the bus, at this new and exciting city, the adventure of it all. A young woman all alone in a foreign land. How brave and how scared I felt all at once, yet deep in my heart convinced that this was the start of a wonderful new life.

I had come from a place filled with miles upon miles of dreary bogs and potholed roads leading nowhere, heavy with grey skies and endless winters. There was nothing left for me there.

Now I can’t believe I am standing here saying goodbye.  I have had so many magical years here, some great jobs, some not so great. I have loved and lost, loved again and now I must leave it all behind. Going home is not an option. My father is blind and my 82 year old mother his only carer, has finally given up the ghost. She is no longer able to look after herself let alone him.

The rest of my siblings have children of their own, jobs, commitments and apparently I have none. No matter. As the eldest perhaps it was always my place to take up the mantle of responsibility. Do my duty. I have reconciled myself to going back. It was fun while it lasted and now I am ready for a new adventure. It will be nice to spend time at home, walk among the heathers, feel the peace and tranquillity of miles and miles of empty skyline, take a breather from this hectic rollercoaster ride I am living now.

Besides I can’t wait to see their faces when I introduce my new fiancée.  Bad enough that I am now batting for the other side, but she is also a beautiful cocoa coloured goddess in a hijab. The prospects of no children or grandchildren will be the least of their concerns. No matter, I will cross that bridge when I get there. No point tipping them off and spoiling the fun. Let the adventures begin!