As we touch down in a private airstrip just outside of London, the sun is beginning to rise. The soft orange glow reflects off the green fields making the atmosphere eerie and magical. Kind of how I imagine the next plain to be. Where Luna and my parents spend their days in peace, surrounded by love and joy.
We disembark the aircraft, thanking the pilots for flying us across the Atlantic. There is a chill in the air so I pull one of my hooded sweatshirts from my carry on bag and put it on hastily. It may be the beginning of summer here but I have a vague memory of chilly mornings in May before the sun fully rises.
Once everyone is off board, we walk toward the two Range Rovers awaiting our arrival. Sol was kind enough to make arrangements with the East Anglian pack to collect and shelt
