As excited as I was that the day to leave America finally arrived, I packed my things slowly. Not because I would miss it terribly here, but because I was taking the time to enjoy all of my belongings, and was expressing internally how thankful I was to have everything material that I had. Although, in my heart, my life in the loop, and my families meant more to me, the material objects had made the long months easier. I started with my clothes, my shoes and my accessories, to move onto what few heirlooms I owned, to finally finish with my personals, my journal from Miss Peregrine, my camera and rolls of film, my scrapbook of photos.

I decided last minute to leave my room as it was, in case there was a happenstance where I would be forced to come back. In my mind, I kept telling myself that it would be prevalent to visit my family every once-in-a-while, to keep the fabrication of going to University in London alive. There was a chance that my parents would call me or even send me letters while I was in the loop, in which case, I would have to come up with a way to know about such on-goings.

The last object to go in my suitcase was my stuffed raven. I zipped the zipper and sighed a sigh of relief. I was just hours away from being home.

A small knock came from my door.

"Come in," I invited.

My father stepped into the room. "Hey, sweetheart, you almost packed?" he asked, taking in the sight of the pile of luggage I had.

"Yep. All done," I replied, smacking my hand against the top of my trunk. "And all ready to fly to London."

He nodded and he slowly walked across my room. He sat at my bay window seat and he gazed at me as if I were in old painting hanging in a museum. I could tell by his expression alone that he was going to miss me, even if only a little. Him and I had been much closer than my mother and I had ever been. Mainly due to the fact that my mother's adoration and obsession over material objects such as purses, jewelry and expensive cell phones was so different to my idea that a mother should revolve around keeping her household in order, just as Miss Peregrine tended to the loop and everything in it. My father had never really ignored my existence nearly as much as my sister and my mother did. Claire wasn't really fond of our father too much, so I think he had taken to me when I was young. And, in truth, I know that he really wasn't fond of all the partying and the mischievous acts my mother and sister were in to. He just followed my mother around like a dog in order to prove his loyalty to her. He did, however had a few slips in the past where he'd get drunk and make odd comments to me. His comments were mocking, but never too hurtful.

"I'm going to miss you," he admitted in a low whisper.

"And I , you, Dad."

He lowered his head and studied the patterns on his sneakers. "You don't know how proud I am of you. For not being afraid to be unique, unlike the rest of us. You're actually making something of your life. I know your Mom has a hard time expressing herself to you sometimes, but she, too, is as proud as I am."

I sighed. "Dad, it's all right. You don't have to get all poetic and soggy on me, just because I'm flying half-way across the world to study some birds."

He laughed. "Well, I just wanted you to know that I love you very much."

"I love you, too, Dad."

He then got up and grabbed my trunk. I stuffed my arms full of bags and we began to load them in his car. He was driving me to the airport; no sense of driving my Jetta just to leave it in the airport parking lot again. As soon as the car was loaded up, I got in the front seat. My Mom was at work and I had said goodbye to her earlier that morning. I took one good look at my house as my father started the car. As it shrank in the rearview mirror, I couldn't help but wonder exactly how long it would be before I stepped foot in it again.

The plane ride was terribly crowded, and it seemed to take forever. It was true that I was landing in London, but there I would board a ferry and travel to Cairnholm. Once on the island, I would lug all of my belongings to the opposite side of the island and drag it through the cairn. I was beyond hopeful that one of the children would notice me with all my things and would approach me to help.

I counted thirty seven other people on the plane, and more than half of them were talking, turning the plane into nothing less than a large flying box of noise. I attempted so hard to catch a nap, and after a while of fighting the noise, I was successful, and managed to snooze through the second half of the flight.

By the time I arrived at the docks, it was late into the evening. By the time I was all loaded onto the ferry, stars plastered the night sky. I lay on the deck of the ferry upon a bench, lit pipe between my lips. I puffed every few minutes or so, and with each puff came a different thought. Such as: If I didn't require luggage, I could have well flown to the island, rather than ride the ferry with the few tourists that were aboard. I had made it apparent to observe every person who stepped foot on the ferry, even the ones who worked upon it. None of them appeared to be wights, and if any of them were, they were much too good at disguising themself. I would report to Miss Peregrine my observations.

An older gentleman with a camera dangling from his neck came up to the deck and stood across from me. I noticed him look me up-and-down.

"It ain't very often a man runs into a wee lassie smokin' a pipe," he commented in a thick Irish brogue. He began to laugh hysterically for a few moments. He then reached into his coat pocket and produced a pipe. He lit it and took a big puff. "Tell me, lass, 'ave ya been to Cairnholm before?"

I smiled at the thickness of his accent. "I have indeed."

"What be your business there?" he asked curiously.

Although I saw no harm in the man, I thought it astute to take precautions. "Visiting an old friend," I replied.

"Ahhhhhh. I am simply 'ere to study birds."

Birds. That caught my attention. I took it upon myself to take in every detail about this man. I would have to make sure that he was well far off from me when I made my way to the cairn. Last thing I wanted to be doing was bringing strangers into the loop.

I stayed quiet enough that the man returned to the bottom deck without another word.

Once on Cairnholm, it was well past sunrise. I loaded all my luggage onto a dolly that a man on the ferry was kind enough to give me, so at least my things were now on wheels. I dragged the dolly into town and stopped at the pub. I was hungry so I ordered a burger and some chips (fries.) I savored every bite since I knew it would be a long while before I would get to indulge in another burger.

You would think that people would ask why I was lugging so much stuff through town, but no one did, thankfully. My things were heavy and I was tired so it took me a while to even reach the outside of town. I made many stops to catch my breath and I even smoked a couple of pipes. I was so glad that I had made it through town without so much as a person talking to me. On my way up to the cairn, I made sure to turn around every once-in-a-while to assure no one was following me.

By the time I reached the cairn, my arms were jello and I felt like I had run a marathon. But I felt accomplished. My home was just on the other side. I headed in with a will, pulling my dolly with all my might. The smell of the cairn was so familiar to my nostrils that it was almost as comforting as a welcome-home embrace. My heart was pounding with excitement and the instant that I stepped foot out of the loop, and my feet touched the brilliant bright green grass, and the aroma of the thousands of flowers in the garden began to fill me, my excitement seemed to turn itself into a small headache.

There it was: Miss Peregrine's house, spread before me in all its glory. I heard the sweet sound of little Claire and Olive playing in the courtyard. From where I stood I could see the lot of the children around the front of the house.

It was a beautiful sight. I felt the same way I did the very first time I ever laid eyes on that big house.

Pulling my dolly in tow, I hoofed it up to the front path as fast as my sore legs would carry me.

When I reached the edge of the terrace, I threw my dolly on the ground and I spread my arms.

"OH, YOU BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN!" I said stridently.

They all paused, but only for a mere second. When they noticed who I was, they all began to yell and bolt at me.

"MINNETTEEEEEEEEEE!" screamed Claire happily.

Claire leaped into my arms and held tightly to my figure. Olive, Bronwyn and Fiona all wrapped themselves around my skirt. Enoch, Horace and Hugh all stood by laughing.

"It's so delightful to see you all!" I cried happily.

After moments of embracing, I took a breather and grabbed hold of my dolly, but Horace and Enoch took it from me, and insisted that the lady didn't need to haul her own luggage.

"Oh, Minnette! Miss Peregrine will be happy to see you!" bragged Olive.

I held out my hands. "Well, then, my darlings, I beg you, take me to her!"

Fiona and Claire each grabbed one of my hands and began leading me toward the house. How happy I was to finally be home.