'Home', as in the physical place is a very, very long way away for me at the moment. About twenty nine hours and twenty three minutes... 'Home', as in the sense of place is always very near though. That feeling of 'home', being loved and safe, is where ever I'm with D, which is revoltingly cheesy, but incredibly true. I am forever grateful that he provides me with such an overwhelming sense of security and complete devotion, it means I always feel at home.
It's funny though, I'm noticing more and more things that remind me of home.
...Such as Mum's car when I was a kid, the ever reliable Prairie Dog (by the way, do NOT Google image search 'Cute Prairie Dogs', unless you're willing to lose hours of your life staring lovingly at your computer screen), which I have never seen another of, popped up the other day on our walk to the train station. It wasn't the glorious shade of brown and orange that Mum's was. But it made me smile and think about all the times my brother and I would ride in the back with our heads laid over the seats, staring at the reverse image of the road in the top of the window. Or the amount of kids after school that we'd manage to pile in through the sliding doors. Or the little messages we'd leave for Mum on the RYCO notepad, in the glove box. That was all up until the day Mum sold it and bought a swing for the garden with the money. I believe she sold it to a German backpacker, who later crashed it. Terrible turn of events...
Here's D looking very excited (bless his soul), because I told him to say 'cheese' for Mum.
It's funny though, I'm noticing more and more things that remind me of home.
...Such as Mum's car when I was a kid, the ever reliable Prairie Dog (by the way, do NOT Google image search 'Cute Prairie Dogs', unless you're willing to lose hours of your life staring lovingly at your computer screen), which I have never seen another of, popped up the other day on our walk to the train station. It wasn't the glorious shade of brown and orange that Mum's was. But it made me smile and think about all the times my brother and I would ride in the back with our heads laid over the seats, staring at the reverse image of the road in the top of the window. Or the amount of kids after school that we'd manage to pile in through the sliding doors. Or the little messages we'd leave for Mum on the RYCO notepad, in the glove box. That was all up until the day Mum sold it and bought a swing for the garden with the money. I believe she sold it to a German backpacker, who later crashed it. Terrible turn of events...
Here's D looking very excited (bless his soul), because I told him to say 'cheese' for Mum.
... Or more recently, I've noticed some strangely familiar sounding tube stations. It's a pleasant feeling, to pass through a station that reminds me of home. It leaves me with a silly grin on my face as the train speeds off to the next destination.
Then of course, there are the things you do intentionally to make yourself feel more at home.
... Such as buy Vegemite and spread it over your toast every morning because it's what you've always done and breakfast simply wouldn't be the same without it. Or eat fruit with breakfast. Not because you particularly enjoy it, but because your father always insisted that you have fresh fruit with breakfast.
... Such as buy Vegemite and spread it over your toast every morning because it's what you've always done and breakfast simply wouldn't be the same without it. Or eat fruit with breakfast. Not because you particularly enjoy it, but because your father always insisted that you have fresh fruit with breakfast.
... Or squeeze your favourite childhood toy into your carry on luggage, because secretly you know he'll love the adventure, but mostly because you would feel a whole lot further away from home, if he wasn't there.
This is Monkey Moo's blog debut, so be kind. He may have scratches on his eyes from all the times I tied him with ribbon to the back of my bike and dragged him around caravan parks in Busselton. Yes, he may have a few saggy patches, most likely from his experiences on ceiling fans. He may not be the colour he once was and yes, his smile does become unstuck sometimes and I have to poke it back in with a pencil. He may not have the extensive wardrobe he once owned (we have that in common)... But he will always be my gender confused Monkey love of my life.
This is Monkey Moo's blog debut, so be kind. He may have scratches on his eyes from all the times I tied him with ribbon to the back of my bike and dragged him around caravan parks in Busselton. Yes, he may have a few saggy patches, most likely from his experiences on ceiling fans. He may not be the colour he once was and yes, his smile does become unstuck sometimes and I have to poke it back in with a pencil. He may not have the extensive wardrobe he once owned (we have that in common)... But he will always be my gender confused Monkey love of my life.
... Or stare at a map for a little while everyday, to reason with yourself that home really isn't that far away. Only about forty centimetres when you think about it.
This wonderful map hangs in our living room. It's a constant reminder of the distance between here and there. Some days it looks so far, and other days, not far at all. But still it hangs, for ever reliable, unchanging. A comforting thought.
This wonderful map hangs in our living room. It's a constant reminder of the distance between here and there. Some days it looks so far, and other days, not far at all. But still it hangs, for ever reliable, unchanging. A comforting thought.
... Or sacrifice approximately four hundred grams and a decent portion of your suitcase to fit your favourite comfy jumper, because despite all of the incredible fashion choices over here, sometimes it feels most like home when you wear your favourite comfy jumper....
I have spent years of my life in this jumper. I have no idea what colour is was originally, but it is now a glorious shade of dirty cream (just like Monkey Moo). Complete with staples holding the sleeve together, two large pockets (perfect for tissues and snacks) and the most comforting musky smell you can ever imagine. Bless this jumper and it's years of happiness giving. It's the first thing I put on when I get home from work, like a big warm hug from home.
I have spent years of my life in this jumper. I have no idea what colour is was originally, but it is now a glorious shade of dirty cream (just like Monkey Moo). Complete with staples holding the sleeve together, two large pockets (perfect for tissues and snacks) and the most comforting musky smell you can ever imagine. Bless this jumper and it's years of happiness giving. It's the first thing I put on when I get home from work, like a big warm hug from home.
At the end of the day, home will always be back in Perth. Always. But for right now, I'm okay with feeling at home with D, where ever in the world we may be.
Xxo