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