It’s starting to set in at last that I’m not moving back to Australia.
My body is confused; for several years, I was moving back and forth between Australia and the US, summer to summer. I was able to put it aside for a time, but the effects are starting to set in. My ears are reaching for the sounds of birds that you won’t find amongst the trees here, birds like cockatoos and kookaburras and rainbow lorikeets.
I miss them. I miss them all. I miss the lackadaisical way of living. I miss the public transportation. I miss my garden and being able to grow year round. I miss my friends.
I wonder how long they will remain my friends. Will they forget about me? Will I forget about them? If years pass before I’m able to make it over there again, will they still make time to see me?
How long is too long between visits?
It’s weird, but having been away from here for almost 3 years, I feel more foreign in the US. I feel distant from my friends and family, and unfamiliar with the customs.
Maybe it’s just about where I choose to live within the country that mattress. Or maybe, as they say, “home is where the heart is.”
So where is mine?
