This morning I was reminded (thanks Facebook Memories) about a post I wrote this time last year, today being the anniversary of when I moved to Perth. In the post I recounted the more significant times in my life: the break-ups, the relocation’s, the overwhelming nervous excitement that comes from rebuilding a life again and again.
I’m reminded, again, how much can change in a year. At the time of writing last year I was ready for all that 2016 could throw at me, I was excited and eager for the year ahead. I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for how acutely I would again be struck with homesickness. I was not ready for how acutely I would have to come to terms with a loved-one’s mortality. I was not ready to accept how grief can show itself in so many ways even before the inevitable.
This last year has been challenging. There is no doubt about that. But then there are other things, tiny seeds of ideas and change that are starting to take root and grow. The glimmer of things to come that are still a maybe? but starting to look like the outline of adventure. The very satisfying realisation of work beginning to pay off…
So here I am. Seven years on from the homesickness that drove me home; the cycle that keeps on going. My own version of the seven year itch. Full of the very complicated feeling that I want to go home… but that I don’t really know where home is.