I miss my Buddy dog. I miss waking up every morning and being greeted at the door for a lengthy cuddle with my little friend. I miss rolling around on the grass in the backyard participating in his games. As tiring as it sometimes was, I even miss throwing his ball. I miss all the laughter his antics induced. I just miss him. I miss the mail lady and her frequent deliveries to my door. I miss opening packages and parcels. I miss the weekly delivery of fresh, organic fruit & vegetables to my door.
I miss the galahs, and the kookaburras. I think I even miss magpies. I miss watching Buddy protect his territory by charging at intruding magpies.
I am missing the change of seasons. I miss watching the sun set a little earlier every day, and I miss feeling that unmistakeable crispness in the air that signals winter is on the way. It’s always summer here. I’m going to miss cardigans, tights and boots. Scarves. Hot baths. Weekend winter getaways. Log fires. Flannelette pyjamas.
I miss being able to do yoga without rearranging my whole house to make room for a mat.
I miss cheese. Real cheese. I miss Oportos. Sometimes I could just go some hot chips. With extra chicken salt.
I miss my garden, the fresh herbs and the continuous supply of fresh, organic vegetables. I miss my morning green smoothie. I miss getting my hands dirty. I miss the afternoons I spent watering, weeding and willing the little plants to grow. I miss my kitchen sink, and I miss the knowledge that I was preparing food in clean, safe water. I didn’t even think about it. Now I’m sick of bottles. I miss brushing my teeth with water from a tap.
I miss going outside without being covered from head to toe with sticky insect repellent.
I miss people. You know who you are. I miss conversation. Complicated sentence structures. Australian accents. Even my husband is developing an Indonesian accent. At work, he is so used to saying ‘pak’ (sir), that he sometimes says it to me. We’re leaving words out of sentences, talking like 3 year olds, and it’s becoming normal.
“We go beach?”… “Yes, I bring camera!”.
I miss being able to overhear and understand conversations that take place around me.
I miss the sound of the lawnmower. I miss that freshly cut grass smell.
I miss my car. I miss driving. I’m not sure if I can drive still, it’s been so long.
I miss being able to open any recipe book, knowing that I’ll have any ingredients I need either on hand or just a 3 minute drive away. I miss the butcher. I miss roast dinners. I miss my pantry. I am frustrated at the lack of healthy ingredients and fresh food here. It’s been an ordinary week for me. I’ve struggled. The holiday is over, reality is setting in. This is the longest I’ve ever been away from Australia. It feels like it’s time to pack our bags and head for home. But this is home. And that’s when it hits me.
The real estate sent us photos of the first inspection they made of our house in Australia since it’s been rented out. There’s someone else’s furniture in my house, and there are strange dogs sitting at the door, not my Buddy dog. There’s no home to go back to. It’s not ours anymore.
I know there is so much on offer here. So much to learn, so many new experiences. So much to see and do. It’s an amazing opportunity and I’m thankful we’re here. We’re learning lots. Changing. Growing. I have been embracing the experience with an open heart. It has been exciting, challenging, rewarding. But sometimes I just miss home.
Change is hard. Letting go is hard. Sometimes we fight to hold on. Then we fight to let go.
I haven’t been feeling much at all this week. It’s just been ordinary. The things that usually speak volumes to me went quiet. Things I usually love doing didn’t interest me. It was like the world lost it’s colour, and I could only see in black and white. Dull, boring and uninteresting.
Yesterday I wanted to go to the beach to try and reconnect with this place. I needed to feel the sand under my bare feet. I wanted to see the sunset. Barry got held up at work. When he got home I thought it was too late, too dark. He insisted we go for a quick drive anyway. I’m glad we did.
As I walked along in the shallow water picking up pieces of coral, examining shells and breathing in the ocean air, I felt the colour returning. Slowly at first, but then this happened.
The sky was full of colour. Vibrant, saturated colour. It was unreal, and it was impossible not to feel anything. It was just what I needed to see, the timing was perfect. It was like a little sign, a reassurance that this is where we need to be, and everything is going to be ok.
I was just going to type all of these words, to get them out. I needed them out. I didn’t want anyone else to read them. But I’ve been thinking, and all of this – the feelings, the emotions, the black and white – it’s all part of the journey. It’s not always blue skies and butterflies, and I don’t want to filter out the reality of it all so I’m going to quickly hit publish before I back out.