I'm back in my family home and my baby brother has left the country for several months. When he returns everything will be different - our family strewn across the country in every direction. The departure at the airport was emotional - tears, stolen hugs, unspoken understandings... Every family has their skeletons and private traumas and mine is no different. They come to the fore during times of change and so this weekend has been one of confusion, regret at not doing things differently, and wishing for good things for everyone.

I'm sitting in his packed up room now, staring up at the now-blank walls so recently papered with posters, covered in CD storage units, congested with pop artefacts. The computer now the only remnant of his time here. The only sign it was ever his space.

Acknowledging his departure comes with accepting his maturation. No longer a child. No more dependant on my advice and approval. And I'm surprised how deeply his growing up has affected me.