We are going home.
I think.
But where exactly ‘is’ home?
Of course, the ABC (or channel 3) taught me as a kid in the ’80’s that, “Home, home, home is where the heart is…” (Now I’m going to have you singing that for days; who remembers this?!!).
Even so, I can promise you it IS possible to have your heart in two places.
Melbourne (and country Vic) is my “Mr Steady”; solid, reliable, honest and always waiting with open and loving arms.
Sydney has been my “saucy, surprise affair”; I was immediately swept off my feet, shown all that glitters and shines, and it has been a passionate, whirlwind holiday romance.
For many reasons, we have made the incredibly tough decision to go back to Melbourne.
In a few short weeks.
I’m meant to be packing.
Instead, my mind is jumping from the beach and rolling waves, to a fenced garden with rose bushes and a trampoline.
My heart is sliding wildly between my people here (and they have fast become my forever people), to my beautiful gang and family in Vic.
To all those who have come across the ocean to make Australia their home (and for those who have set sail the other way), you have my utmost admiration. At least I can always grab a quick flight back up to visit (although those of you with kids know that realistically, there ain’t nothing ‘quick’ about sorting a few days away).
A big shout out to the makers of those stripey canvas bags who are clearly unsuspecting sponsors of our move, and my husband and kids who ensure I get dinner on the table of an evening and not curl up in a ball of emotional exhaustion. Also, a giant thanks to my beautiful new Sydney loves, whose constant offers of help, more farewell drinks and understanding smiles, remind me why I will refuse to actually say goodbye.
