It’s day twenty one of the 30 Day Writing Challenge, and today’s prompt is: Everybody.
The beach near my old house in Australia
It’s also Wednesday, which means I’ll be taking a wander. However, in line with the prompt, this wander will be slightly different in that I’ll be trying to answer a question that just about everybody asks me, once they hear I’ve moved back to England from Australia. And the question is: Why did I leave Australia to come back here?
The short answer is: because my husband’s work brought us over here. But there is more to it than that.
Melbourne and the Yarra River
In the UK, Australia seems to be sold as a sort of dream destination, an island paradise with white beaches and blue water and a cruisy outdoor lifestyle, where wages are double or almost triple that for the same job in the UK. The people look the same, speak the same language, the cities are comfortably cosmopolitan and it’s just sun, sun, sun all year round. People cannot believe I would leave such a place to come to a small green island that, according to some, gets more than its fair share of rain.
A beach in Wales I used to visit as a child.
Don’t get me wrong – Australia is a fantastic place. I lived there for seventeen years. My husband is Australian. Our daughter was born there. I have a great deal of love for and fond memories of both Melbourne and Sydney, as well as all the other places I visited. It’s a beautiful country and a lot of people who I love live there.
London
Yet, there was always a part of me that longed for mist and green grass and ancient buildings. For cold Christmases and tiny villages, rain-soaked high streets and cool mountains. A part of me that never quite felt at home among the brilliant sunshine and blue water. I remember coming back for a visit to the UK just over nine years ago. We were flying over the coast heading towards London and I looked out of the airplane window. The sun was just rising and I could see the Thames like a silver ribbon, winding inland. My husband leaned over to look out as well, then said to me, ‘How does it feel, coming back here?’ I watched the green landscape unfold beneath us and said, ‘Like coming home.’
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The roots of the land call you back, don’t they?
They really do. They resonate deep inside, no matter how far away you travel. You always know where home is.
From the bones of the earth to yours, I think.
Definitely 🙂
Coming home is a beautiful thing, even if you haven’t left it for very long. I love to travel and don’t do well being at home all of the time; however, when I do come home, there’s only one place that I want to go back to, and that it only feels right to come back to.
There is one other place that I’ve been to that I felt like I could be home there, and that was in France. I hope to stay for months or even years the next time I visit; however, my home will always be in a small town in Pennsylvania in the Northeastern United States. No matter where I go and how long I stay away, I’m coming back. Home will always be special to you no matter where it is or what someone else may think of it.
Thank you. That’s so beautifully expressed, and exactly how I feel, too 🙂
No problem!