cherry flavoured // h.s

wednesday, 23 december

There was just something about seeing a flurry of snowflakes falling fervently that made me feel like Christmas was truly here. London was always a spectacle during the holiday season, with the Trafalgar Square tree standing tall or the criss-cross of twinkling lights down Oxford Street, but seeing snowfall in Holmes Chapel outshone all of that in a heartbeat.

The whole 3 hour drive up towards Cheshire I had been restless, eager to arrive back home. But now I found myself slowing my car, taking in the sights of my hometown as though this was a brand new display. The main square bustled with foot traffic, everyone bundled up in sweaters and beanies, but each person had that slight spring in their step, the falling flakes not a soggy burden but a bright reminder of the celebrations around the corner. I couldn't help but smile as I trawled past mum and I's favourite Chinese take-away spot. I caught a glimpse of Mrs Wu in her usual spot behind the counter, talking animatedly to a customer as she always does. St Luke's stood steadfast on the corner, it's windows glowing welcomingly against the rapidly darkening sky. It was funny how a lightness seemed to descend upon me just from being back in the place where I grew up.

I picked up the pace again as I pulled out the main strip and continued on towards home. I almost went into autopilot as I navigated the familiar left and rights, and before I knew I was carefully guiding my car into the driveway. I really do love my life in London and have never felt regret about moving some distance away from home. But the absolute gut-punch of homesickness I felt as I stepped out of my car almost made me question why the hell I ever left.

"Mum, I'm here!" I called as I pushed the front door open.

"Oh Hazel," I heard mum call back. I followed her voice to the living room to the left of the entryway. "Welcome home! I must've dozed off, what time is it?" As I entered the room I saw mum gingerly pulling herself off the sofa. She looked frailer than the last time I saw her, it was always hard to tell how she was actually faring physically over Facetime. I quickly stepped over to her, wrapping her up in a hug but also using it as an excuse to properly pull her up without her having to overexert herself.

"It's so good to see you," I spoke into her hair. Mum merely ran her hands up and down my back in a comforting nature.

"Let me get a proper look at you," she pulled me away. "I can see your cheekbones! Have you been eating?"

I laughed. In reality I knew I had put on my usual winter kilos, but I accepted the comment without arguing. "How could I not be eating with your fortnightly box of cookies?"

Her turn to chuckle, "You can also thank Anne for those."

"You sit back down, I still need to grab my stuff from the car. I'll make you a cuppa when I get back."

"Oh, there's a pasta bake in the fridge. Pop it in the oven if you're peckish."

"Sounds good," I called over my shoulder as I made my way back outside.

The sun had officially dipped below the horizon, plunging the sky into a deep blue. As I unlocked my car, a wash of white passed over me. A car pulled into the driveway adjacent to my own. I immediately recognised it as my long-time neighbours. Just as I lifted my suitcase out of the boot, she stepped out of her own car.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Hazel Shaw?"

"In the flesh!"

"Get over here, it's been far too long!"

I laughed and carefully stepped around to properly greet Anne. I couldn't help but smile as she gathered me up in her arms, it made me feel just as at home as I did with my own mother. I have known Anne since I was 4 years old, when mum and I first moved in here, and I can't recall the number of hours I have spent in her kitchen or back garden or living room whilst growing up. Mum and I are lucky to have someone like Anne in our lives.