the yellow brick road.

i’m home.

it’s done.

and i don’t want to write.

the journey back/home stretch/final leg was so much more than i expected. as close to perfect as i could have wished for. every moment enjoyed, no regrets, filled to bursting point. the pieces of the puzzle are finding their place.

it’s great to be back.

charlotte

there is a spider web outside my window. it’s shiny in the sun, invisible in the shade. a tiny spider lives there. he’s caught a couple things in his web. probably flies, i would say. this tiny spider wove his web from a tree to a pot plant, a table to a tree, a tree to a chair. clever little spider, weaving such a big home.

in a way, we’re all weaving throughout our lives: career, home, partner, kids, family, friends, passions. they’re all part of our fragile web. in some places, it seems weak, as if the slightest breeze will break the thread. those are the parts that don’t matter so much. right in the centre is the strongest. where family and love and the truly important things rest. certain. unbending.

my web is still being woven. shaped by things around me, people, places, experiences. i don’t know what it will end up looking like. but i hope, like the spider, it’s strong in the middle. catching all the things i need the most.

chocolate heals all? we’ll see.

i am waiting for tim tams. it’s 12:14am and i am waiting for tim tams. tim tams. tim tams. tim tams. well, tim tam…

you can probably tell it’s past my bed time. delirium kicks in. excitement because i can’t be tired anymore. there’s just no reason to be awake except for a bit of sugar i can probably do without and will only make me stay up later anyway. conundrum.

so, as i sit and wait for my tim tam, (for which my craving is now gone), i sit with my computer and think. i think about lots of things. food (obviously). people. tomorrow. whether i will get up and go for a walk on the beach in the morning. or sleep in and feel guilty when i see the beautiful day outside. life is full of tough decisions.

i was a little homesick this morning. missing tea and breakfast and chats with mum, and the day planned to a tee. without distraction or obstacles. you know, a boring day. but i woke late and i felt that guilty feeling and i rolled over, smiled, heard the sprinklers and thought of home. i don’t miss home. but at the same time, i miss feeling at home. don’t get me wrong, i do here, more and more everyday. but different people, different cultures, different food. different life. yes, i like it. i’m not complaining.

i’m just saying…

and perhaps i shouldn’t. perhaps i’m not meant to feel this feeling yet. perhaps it’s all too soon and i should think about something else and run away and let it be. whatever happens, happens. and all for a reason. but it’s something i want. something i miss. i can’t forget about it. can’t just think about something else. it’s not going away.

it’s gnawing at the back of my neck, in my heart, everyday. ache. not heavy, thank goodness. just dull. but strong enough to notice it’s missing.

yum yum tim tam.

and

i leave in a month. one month. one, tiny month. and, i return in four…

it’s a beautiful day at victor today. wispy clouds float in light blue, white where the sea, dark blue, meets, the sky. 

it makes me think of leaving. but, this place, i leave, too. my home. the last i have left. it’s been 3 years since i’ve had a proper home. a place i lived and made my own for longer than three months at a time. when i come back here, i feel it. that thing i lost, i find again. i’m gleeful. waking, at night, smiling to myself and falling, easily, back to dream. rested, peaceful, i wake to light. light that fills the air. i smile, stretch, feel love. i love, i’m here.

today, i leave again.

and in one month, i’ll leave all familiarity. leave to a place i’ve never been. throw myself into the wind, and be scared, nervous, anxious. push myself, toward a life. of dark blue seas and light blue skies. adventures, excitement. fear. a place, a home, perhaps. but, for no longer than three months, again, this time.

dark blue, light blue, seas and skies. and life and feeling and love and light.

two lives

a special visitor is coming next week. i am excited to see her.

another friend of mine (i miss her, all the time) is coming to see me. and i am excited. it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. but, really, it has. i’ve missed her. 

i’m planning adventures. thinking of the best things we can do together. i want her to see where i live, what i do, without her. in my other life.

i used to think, when i left, life in that place just stopped. it couldn’t possibly continue without me. but it does, and it did, and i had to deal with that. i used to feel the two places combine – they became one in the same. i would return home, only to feel i had never left. it was the same. just the people changed. my life continued, along a constant thread. theirs didn’t, not until i came back.

but it did.

and now, as those lives merge again, i feel like a child. preparing this life for the arrival of a friend from the other. that other life i left behind…one that couldn’t possibly continue without me. but, it has. 

houghton

we used to move houses a lot.

the first time i remember moving i was four. i didn’t want to leave that house. “mummy, can i take my clown curtains?” i loved those curtains. i thought that house was a palace. i thought i had a massive room with a huge yard. i drove past it the other week…it wasn’t a palace at all, just a modest house on a small block of land with neighbouring houses too close.

the next house we moved into properly was bigger. i was bigger too. it was on a little bit of land with a driveway i thought was so long. i had the big bedroom with the mirrored wardrobe. my brothers and i used to build forts at the bottom of the driveway, out of pine needles. we’d hide behind it and throw pine cones across the road and into the park. we had a tennis court there, too. i always thought it was the real size. but, it was a half court. it just seemed so big.

after i turned ten, we moved again. to the last home i really ever had. i remember it was after i was ten because i didn’t get to have my birthday party there. we moved to a farm. a small farm, 60 acres. we started with six cows. that grew to sixty. a few chickens turned into 100 geese that my brother bought for a dollar each. we had two emus at one stage. a few turkeys, too. some sheep, peacocks and an old horse named star who thought he was a cow. i bought a cow, a hereford, i called her daisy. she had a calf who i named mask who was black all over except for her beautiful white face. mask.

i loved that house.

i used to walk to the dam, sit on the jetty and write. or sometimes just sit and listen. 

i miss that house.

the serenity, peace, stillness, the fresh sting of the air. it was half an hour from the city. but, at night you could see all the stars. the city didn’t blind us from them.

i started thinking about that house today. when i left, i left from that house. when i came back two and a half years later, it was sold. i became a nomad. i felt homeless and lost somehow. i felt i didn’t have a place. so, when i thought about that house today, i thought about it with a longing for it. for that feeling. the safety, comfort, familiarity, that only a true home can give. i took it for granted. i didn’t appreciate the place for what it was. and now i’m left longing.

they say home is where the heart is. in some ways, that is true. but i left my heart in houghton. i left my heart with that home.

so, as i start to travel the world, i’ll look for somewhere that drags that feeling from me. like a magnet. somewhere with a pull so strong, i can’t resist. that longing is a space in me i need to fill. something’s missing.

we used to move houses a lot. i became used to it. saying goodbye to houses wasn’t like saying goodbye to family or friends. but this one was different. this one still grabs me. i never had the chance to say a proper goodbye. i never had the chance to create another home for myself. with all those feelings that would fill me up.

i miss that home.