I’m really sad to leave Australia, which I am pretty surprised about considering I’ve been so excited for so long to go back home and see all my friends and family, and to see London again. But now that it’s actually coming up I find myself holding on to every minute that passes, wishing I had still more time in Australia.
It’s the curse of the traveller, I suppose; wherever you go there’s also somewhere else that holds your heart. I feel like I’ve settled in and taken root, and now that I’m leaving those roots are ripped up yet again. Leaving Sweden was terrifying and I asked myself if I’d made a mistake (spoiler alert: I hadn’t). Leaving London was heart wrenching and as soon as my plane took off I started longing for the day I would set foot on her filthy sidewalks again. And now, leaving Australia, I can’t wait to come back and drink my fill of this country again.
I think you leave part of yourself wherever you make a home, and with the people you find there, and though I still feel whole I feel stretched over a huge distance. I think part of me will always be missing somewhere else, wherever I go. I have had similar feelings since I was a young girl, though at the time I was missing places I had never even seen, and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it was foreshadowing for how I would feel later on in life.