003: Limbo

At 2.13am, in the cloudy chaos of the arrival gates at Melbourne International airport, I lay eyes on my family for the first time in six. I saw my older sister, the tallest of the three, squirming around the heads in front of her, trying to peer through into the customs lounge. My younger sister, more stationary than usual - the bandage around her knee and the crutches keeping her upright - was grinning enthusiastically none the less. And beside her, my mum, still wearing her work suit from the day before, and holding the lumpy cardigan I had requested. I think I held up the stream of people trying to get to taxis and homes. But I didn’t care. I stood there in the middle of the walk way; tears building up on my eye lashes, being held by three sets of arms, thankful for the sudden comforts of home.

I had moved out of my parents house two years before heading to Europe, and for me, lounging in pyjamas, sipping wine with mum, and having a plentiful supply of food and internet usage is not exactly the life I led prior to my travels. My frugal living in a small, often untidy flat makes my time at mum and dad’s relaxing and freeing and rather indulgent. What with work and school and normal life that keep me in my university flat, I only got a few days a month when I was able to enjoy the idle nature of life by the beach, before I have to return to reality. For three days I have been living in this limbo. An unrealistic and unobtainable reality of what life could be like. Not needing to worry about the food on the table or whether an extra long shower will come to bite me in the bum at the end of the month. I may be home, in the home and country that I grew up in, surrounded by my family (and sorely missed dog) but I am not yet able to progress into normal life.

I am making plans and writing lists, re-wording my resume and inching closer to the pile of possessions sealed and stacked months in the corner of the spare room. But I cannot unpack, for I have no place to go. There are complications keeping me by the beach: I need to wait for manly muscle to help move my furniture back in, I needed to sit appointments; a long needed haircut and someone brave enough to look at my teeth and feet. But I have also needed to wait for processes beyond my control. Organising a re-issue of my licence and for a new phone to arrive (there lie two rather unamusing travel stories that will no doubt be recalled later).

And so, I have to wait. Wondering what it is that I will do with my newly returned free time.

Kathleen x