In a few days, we see our families on home turf for the first time in two years.
While this is certainly the main motivating factor behind our trip, more recently my thoughts have turned to another possible factor.
After four days of frost and ice puddles and hands that don't move, I have been thinking about that thing called 'warmth'.
As I sit in my down sleeping bag in the lounge at night when it's below zero outside and our little fire has managed to get the inside temperature to 16, I imagine strolling down to the beach.
I imagine myself as a child of the universe. My beany, my scarf, my boots and my socks are cast off. Finally, my five layers of clothing are ripped and torn to shreds as I attack them with reckless abandon.
I stand there, a child of the sun. My muscles are liquid, thawed out and loosened by the raw heat so that I can stretch my arms to the sky and twist my body til it cracks and lengthens.
The truth of the matter is that after ten minutes in the sun, I would be hot, sweaty, blistered and burnt. And cranky.
So I guess I should focus on family after all and put the warmth into the 'to be endured' box.
Hopefully the family will never need to go in the 'to be endured' box...although three months is a long time...perhaps I'll find myself in the 'to be endured' box???