The come back

After a great party and a week of celebrations with friends and family, leaving the breezy resort by the sea and getting back to the city feels like such a come down. And turning up to our front door to find out that the building's lift is out of order and therefore we have to climb up four storeys in the steaming heat, carrying a full suitcase (him) and a billion of small bags (me)- which by the way don't get me started on how on earth we end up with loads of those when I am always obsessed with trying to travel light- is not exactly the way Mr and Mrs have pictured their return home as a married couple.

And what about our first walk into the house, hu? Yes, we had to do this one too. My strong husband kindly put the suitcase down to lift me up, minus the billion bags, and enter the gates of the apartment. Taa-ram! It didn't feel exactly like a Hollywood moment (I suppose) with the heat and everything, plus we had to bring in our stuff straight after to close the door and drink loads of water, but it was actually great! And now we have reached the live-happily-ever-after paragraph of our lives which basically means back to life and back to reality. 



Little Laura's portrait drawing of us, drawn right after the dinner and brought over to me on the dance floor with a huge smile showing all her front missing teeth, still makes me smile.

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