I run. The gravel crunches beneath my shoes and my breathing is ragged. My legs are burning and my chest feels like it's going to explode, but I push myself on. "This is what you get for being a lazy ass for the past six months," I say in my head. And I run until the fork in the road then I slow down to a walk and think about taking all my clothes off and passing out in the ditch for a while. But that's a good way to literally get eaten alive by mosquitos/be mistaken for a dead body by any passing country folk. So I slowly walk back home. My mind starts wandering...did I make the right choice? What will happen with the Boy? Will I ever stop missing Australia? What if I never get to go back?
"Be present!" I remind myself. I look around me, at the fields I grew up with. The gravel road is wet from last night's rain and all the plants and grass and trees around me are varying shades of vibrant green. The sky is a perfect blue, spotted with huge white clouds that are somehow fluffy and wispy at the same time. The gentle wind cools my face and sweeps across the field in waves, a different type of ocean. All around me I can hear leaves rustling, birds singing, and the chirping of crickets in their endless symphony. I am home.
It's been a great week here on the Munro Farm. I've recovered from my jet lag, cleaned my room for the first time since 2007, and eaten pretty much everything I could find (which was a lot). I've visited with my Grandparents, my Mom, Dad and his girlfriend, a lovely English lady who is as comfortable drinking a fine red wine as she is mowing the lawn on our giant riding lawn mower. I was lucky enough to see some old friends from Winnipeg, but unfortunately missed out on my neighbor Cam, who was selfishly busy working. I even managed to get my hair cut - that's number 9 in the past seven months for anyone who hasn't been counting. I am so happy that I got to spend some time here with my family, where I grew up. It's funny how different everything looks now. I've been away from home for a longer period of time, but I have never been so far away. The distance was palpable. I realized something very important in my travels...that while my family is not perfect, while we are in fact quite broken and uncomfortable at times, we are still family. The house will change color and furnishings and pets will come and go, but it is still my home. And I am so incredibly lucky.
The only part missing was my brother, who is working at a fly-in fishing resort this summer. On the one hand, I get to stay in his place in Calgary until he gets back (woo! no pants party!), on the other hand, it would have been really nice to be home with him at the same time. Well I'm sure I'll get my fill of him once he returns and relegates me to the couch. Yes, just because I've given up travelling does not mean I've given up mooching.
And so, here I sit, on the eve of my surprise return to Calgary. I'm nervous, I'm excited, I can't wait to eat some poutine. But, above all, I am happy. One of my favorite at-home-on-the-farm activities is to read my old diaries, and I was doing so earlier this week. It was frustrating to read my truly senseless ramblings about past relationships and jobs and internal struggles (which of course seem incredibly stupid to me now). But it was also liberating. I realized that I am well on my way to becoming the person that I desperately wanted to be three years ago, but didn't know how. I can honestly say that I am at peace with myself and those around me. I have redefined what I want in life and I have the motivation to go after it. Who knew that cranking around Aus, getting drunk and dancing like an insane robot was all I needed?
Just kidding. It was so much more than that. I will never forget the feeling of driving down the coastal highway at sunset, with the windows open and Triple J playing as loud as I wanted. Laughing until my sides hurt and we didn't know what we were laughing about anymore. Looking around a room full of new faces, so grateful that they welcomed me so completely. The feel of warm salty water crashing over me. Looking into her eyes while the pink and purple fog rolled over us and I felt like I was falling. Smoking cigarettes with him as we looked at the moon and the trees and shared snippets of our lives. Dancing and getting so hot and sweaty that I took off my shirt, just like the boys did. Because I could, and I didn't care. I look at my pictures and realize I only captured a fraction of my experiences. But I don't mind. It's impossible to explain the feeling of total and complete freedom, of living for the moment. Of being miserable and homesick and lonely and leaving the house anyway, funneling a beer, putting on a mullet wig and arguing about circumcision with friends and strangers in a shed. I miss Australia, and all the beautiful people I got to know. But I know that I don't have to worry about whether or not I will get to return someday.
The universe is always unfolding as it should.
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