Night Burning

Its well into July and I realised that it has been some time since I last blogged. Years ago it would have been writing in journal, and while that still happens, technology has moved on. That's not to say that I still don't use the conventional pen and paper -because I do. I believe I always will. But it is much easier to type, I can get out much more much quicker. I've had this discussion multiple times before.

I guess what always strikes me is how much can happen in such a small amount of time and how intense the emotions can be which are attached to them. You would think that with so much going on in life that writing would be the logical way to sort things out. And usually that is the case. But more and more I am finding that the thoughts, the words, the expressions just want to stay in my mind. I'm yet to figure why that's the case because as some of you know, it's the easiest thing in the world for me to do. Or it used to be. There's a huge block there now days, almost like an inner censorship which will not allow things to leave the confines of that silly grey matter aloft up there.

This evening my windows are open. Like most really. However, the scent of what I can only associate to a campfire has come wafting in. Some person out there has quite randomly decided to burn something not realised just how far away it can send me. As I sit here in my boxed up flat, I find myself not looking at the cardboard, not aware of the couch or the carpet, of the time of day. Rather all I can think of in my mind, all I can feel around me, are the moments in time I've found myself at Minda Killara. There are some quite pivotal moments had there, as a girl, a teenager and as a young adult. I find myself missing the place. I guess I'd not given it much thought until right now. How I yearn to sit in what was once the chapel, a clearing on the side of a hill looking out over the gum trees in the morning light, listening to the Kookaburra's calling to each other.

Its a big week. This weekend I make the move to South Croydon, I'm looking forward to it, but dreading it all at the same time. Moving is stressful. Though its nothing compared to moving half way across the world, this still somehow seems challenging. Within mere days of that, Erin shall arrive. To be honest I'm dreading the return to Gatwick airport. While I know that the visa has been approved, and I know nothing should go wrong, and while I anticipate a long wait, my gut just isn't happy. Like I am expecting something else to go wrong. Its a rather negative outlook to have, I know, but I guess I'm waiting for the next bump on the road. It could be somewhat nieve to think that from this point on, things should start going in our direction, life will return to normal domestic bliss. A part of me wonders if that will ever happen again. Almost like I have forgotten what that feels like.

Amazingly, its been almost two years since the move to the UK was decided on, some nineteen months since it was executed and a long sixteen months of ups and downs here in Old London Town. What is it like to be normal again? To a degree it's been partly normal, I've got a job and a routine and had a place to live. And yet . . . its been abnormal too.

Understandably there's a lot of uncertainty. That's to be expected. However I'm tired of that being my excuse. I've used it so much in recent times!! I'm tired of it being expected, I want it all to settle down again!!

Hmmm, how's that for a side track. I write because I can smell and remember a comforting place. Though when I say it like that its less random and more significant. I have just realised, this is the longest I have ever been gone from Australia. Wholly crap. Yep, I've been gone 19 months!