The lure of moving back home is proving a difficult one to shake. I’ve thought about the idea before, obviously. As I write this I’m feeling an overwhelming urge to do it. Almost as if the decision has already been made.
My cousin sent me videos and photos of my Grandma Barbie’s house. I saw the message come through in the morning but purposely didn’t look because I just knew I would be repeatedly interrupted by tiny people. I felt I needed to give myself time, honestly I just wasn’t sure how I would react. So, The Mothership and I waited until the kids were in bed and sat together on the couch.
I could remember the house but details like what was on the walls was missing. It was wonderful seeing it all again. Wonderful and sad. I knew I would feel both of those things and that’s why I had waited.
A BEAUTIFUL MELANCHOLY
Another thing I couldn’t get out of my head was seeing my cousins beautiful baby playing in the house. She is about my girls corrected age and was happy at my Auntie’s feet. I had an overwhelming sense to be there too, with them. I am a sentimental sop at the best of times but this feels more than that. This place I spent so many happy hours in is really important to me. It feels plain weird that my children haven’t been there.
When something like this happens it’s a time for family to come together. While I have made amazing friends in Newcastle we’re never going to have that same thing here. The distance is killing me. But it’s not just the house, it’s the place where I grew up too. The streets, the people, the culture and the unparalleled familiar. I just don’t know if my time in Australia is coming to a natural end.
WOULD I GO HOME HOME?
I’ve always said that I wouldn’t move back to my home town. I’ve gotten used to coast living now and being nearer the water would be ideal. I have actually always maintained that the perfect place for me would be Scotland. I am half Scottish after all and with the added morbid fear of the sun it seems kinda’ logical. (Not that Scottish people are scared of the sun, I’m referring to the cooler weather!). Being the practical person I am, employment is a key consideration too. But something that gets me really excited if I did go back home home is knowing I would already have my village there. School friends, old work friends and family. I wouldn’t be starting again like I’ve had to here. We already have all of those connections and a history there.
We have people who love us. People I could meet up with for play dates and general shenanigans. When I think about that I smile. When I think about the people I would love to see I get quite excited at the prospect. Conversations would flow and I just know it’d be like I’d never left.
Little Man and I are hoping to go back for a visit pretty soon. So, I’ll use that as a bit of a decider. If I return to Australia and automatically get on my knees to kiss the tarmac then I’ll know I want to stay here. Life will continue on somewhat normally. The homesickness would be ever present of course but at least I’d know. At the moment though, I just can’t see that happening.