There he is. That’s the man we followed to the UK.

It’s now just over a year since he came to this country. He says it’s been a remarkable time — even with the lockdown.

I should have known life was going to be interesting with him. He was always a little different from the others. Funny. Infuriating. Kind.

He’d tease you mercilessly and then turn around and give you the sweetest hug.

“Trust me?” he’d ask.

“No,” I’d reply.

Yet here we are. Half way across the world from where we started. Walking in golden woods on trails strewn with fallen leaves.

“You haven’t been to Richmond Park yet. I’ve got to take you there,” he said a couple of nights ago.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. I was too comfortable in our neighbourhood, in the familiar and the safe. I didn’t want to venture out again, particularly in lockdown.

“We don’t have to walk there do we? Not sure I’m up for a very long walk,” I hesitated.

“No. We’ll need to take the bus.”

He took our son on a bike ride to that park. Only after they got back did he tell me they went on the freeway for a bit.

“There were bike paths,” he said as he tried to calm me down. “We were perfectly safe.”

He does that. He tries things. Takes calculated risks. Drives me nuts.

“Trust me,” he tells me.

I’m always scared to.

But here we are. Half way across the world from where we started. Having a wonderful time.

For Six Word Saturday and Festival of Leaves

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