Home sweet home.
‘Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way!’
Imagine little Moley, tramping along on a cold evening, in Ratty’s wake, and suddenly scenting something familiar…his old home. He hadn’t been there for a long time, being busy with Rat (just messing about in boats) , and now the longing almost overcame him with the need to go back
Excitedly he persuaded Rat to turn back, and together they found the little door which read Mole End. Outside there was a tiny courtyard, a little garden area, a pond,….but when they went inside he was bereft. Dust had fallen on everything. There was little food in the cupboard, and he was ashamed of how small and mean his home must feel to Rat. He sat in a heap and sobbed.
Dear old Rat put all things right with his enthusiasm. ‘I say Mole old chap, what a jolly little house this is, so conveniently arranged’. He bustled around, exclaiming over everything, and in no time he had a fire going, and food found in the cupboards.
Their evening was rounded off by a visit from the Fieldmice who sang Carols to them, and warmed their paws by the fire.
Mole had found his home, and knew it would always be there for him to return to.
I sometimes feel a bit like Moley….a longing for my home country, England, where life is familiar, where I know how it all ‘works’. If I close my eyes I can take myself back to my childhood home, back to tea by the fire, to a cosy home where everything was ‘so convenient’, and understand Moley’s wish to ‘come back to this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted on for the same simple welcome’.
Thank you, FL, for inviting me to be one of your guest writers on this lovely subject!