I am sitting in the back of the car. Uncle Arthur and Aunt Maria are in the front chatting away, happy to be together again.
In minutes, we will be there, at the old homestead. I recognise each turn of the country road, the open yellow fields, the old letterboxes by the side of the road, the old farmhouses half hidden by the gum trees.
Every other time I have been here, I have been exploding with excitement. Not this time. This is the first time I don't want to see the magnificent white homestead perched high on the hill. I don't want to see the jacaranda trees in purple bloom that make it look like the most beautiful house in all the world. I don't want to see the horses that graze the fields – the blue sky that stretches on and on. And, most of all, I DON'T want to see the people who, right now, are waiting for me.
Maybe if I close my eyes, everything will just disappear.