Three hours south of Sydney is a little slice of heaven called Lake Conjola. Small communities dot the lake, some with names that evoke the holiday spirit, like Manyana and Fisherman’s Paradise. My family’s holiday house is in one of these small lakeside communities with large gum trees rising all around.
Yesterday, we were caught out in a rather violent storm in Sydney. It was a great experience, watching the storm unleash its fury a little closer than I usually would.
So the Swans won the flag. The WHOLE THING. And I’m bursting with pride. It just felt like 2005 all over again.
In 2006, and like many intrepid Australians before me, I packed my bags in search of a lifetime of adventure. I believed that I, too, could live the dream.
In the book ‘Chocolat’ by Joanne Harris (and the movie of the same name), I saw in it something I recognised in my own life. The main character is called to pack her belongings and move on by the wind that blows through her French town . And for a while now, those winds have been again calling my name. Every 18 months or so, I feel the need to return home. This time it was almost to the day. It sneaks up on you quietly, then, if ignored, with greater rumbling and urgency. The universe is telling me to move on, but I need it to give me some time. Some of my avoidance strategies includes reorganising my workspace and apartment, and I did both yesterday. But still, I know what I have to do: I have to go home. It’s as though I am pulled by some invisible gravitational force back Down Under. I need to return home to be recharged and reenergised by the colours, the sights, the sounds, the smells. The …
Welcome to the sixteenth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012. Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone. If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com. I am an Australian living abroad. That informs so much about how I see the world. I get to talk about Australia a lot with the people I meet. I love being asked. Gravitating to fellow antipodeans in the area stems the homesickness with a good ol’ yarn and an exchange of imported groceries from someone’s trip home. There’s some things you just can’t get anywhere else but home. I’ve yet to find a place to pick up a ‘Dog’s Eye’ with ‘Dead Horse’, or some hot chips with chicken salt. Today is Australia Day. It’s “unAustralian” not to celebrate Australia Day. It’s a day when you attend barbies. You eat until you’re …
The Rebecca Project 