Home

It's coming closer and it's not as scary as I thought it would be. I would have been home for almost a month if I had left on my original departure date, and I would have been home for a week if I had left on the 31st of July, which is another date I considered leaving just to keep my silver frequent flying status. But I’m glad I’m going when I’m going.

I’ve been really struggling with accepting that I will have to leave. I’ve been thinking a lot about this split life I lead, and it’s never gotten any easier over the last 11 years. I would have returned to Holland permanently if I had not met my husband in 2004. I was struggling with my studies and then I came for a holiday to sunny Holland and had an awesome time. And I didn’t want to go back to Australia, but I had to finish my studies, so my mum told me to just finish them and then come home. And when I got back to Australia I fell in love. It was amazing, too, that love. Never met such a gentle, warm and caring gentleman before. He wasn’t the type I would usually fall in love with, as I tended to fall for flaky arty types with a lot of ambition and no guts to make their dreams come true. Not this guy, he was full of ambition, but also very committed to making his ambition become his life. And now he’s an associate architect, with a lovely wife (right?), a nice house, a very cool car, a cute Vespa, and a bright future. I am so proud of him, and feel so lucky to be that lovely wife. And I so look forward to going home to him.

But, truth be told, he is the only reason I still live in Australia. I love my family here so much. I love the culture. I love riding my bike through Amsterdam, over the cobbled streets along the canals, dodging traffic like a local, my big chain lock clanging against my handle bars, ringing my bell at the tourists and hearing the Westertoren carillon play. I take deep breaths and feel so very thankful for those moments. My own 15 year-old granny bike to get around, the city becoming a friend, befriending baristas around town, my sister’s place to call my own, and having her and my friends a phone call away - it’s all so amazing. And it feels good to my very bones. This is who I am. But not all of who I am.

I will not linger on how much it pains me to have to leave this house, my mum’s place, a place I call home though I have never really lived here permanently. And to know I will almost definitely not come back to it ever again...well. Brings tears. And also leaving my mother alone, knowing she should take much better care of herself than she does, with her diabetes, and her love for good food. It worries me. It worries me so much. Not to mention her habit of not putting her seatbelt on until she’s already moving. Those things sometimes have me lying awake all night when I’m in Australia. And I have tried to tell her that she needs to look after herself, for me, for my sister, we want her to live a long and healthy life. But she seems hell-bent on living a happy and tasty and comfortable life, even if that means it won’t be that long. There’s nothing I can say to make her choose a long life. 

But I am going back. I want to. I am ready. I look forward to wrapping my arms around my wonderful husband and kiss him. It’s kind of exciting to be able to kiss him again after six months. I look forward to cherishing that. Almost like a real first kiss with the added bonus of knowing it’ll be wonderful. And I look forward to going for breakfast with him on Saturday mornings, like we always do, with the paper, a nice Melbourne coffee, lazy times and total contentment. 

I look forward to cooking in my own big, well equipped kitchen, talking to Ash as he cuts the veggies and tells me about his day, some music playing, darkness falling and knowing this is home. This is my house, my life, my husband, my world and it’s a good one. I do love that life. I find it easy to place it on hold when I’m here, but when I get back I remember how nice my life in Melbourne is. My gorgeous car, so comfortable, so cool, so loveable. My beautiful zippy Vespa, her cream coloured body swift over the (not so busy) Melbourne roads, taking off at the traffic lights with ease, leaving the cars behind me. Pulling of my helmet to see sweet friends in cafes, ready for chats over coffee, to have giggles with my kiddies, perhaps a cool job in writing and/or communication. It’ll all be good. 

I have never left Holland feeling this ready to go home, I don’t think. Maybe in 2009 when Ash and I were in Europe for 3 months because his work kept us in London after our honeymoon. But then I didn’t have him waiting there for me.  We’d been together and that was very nice.  

Notice how I call this home, but also my life in Melbourne? It really is like that. I have two homes. Two worlds, equally wonderful, with their own charms and disadvantages. Life is life, here or there, I only have one life, and I can only be in one place at a time. So I better enjoy the one I am in as long as I can.