From Home

I write this from the comfort of my couch in my living room in Brisbane. I have my husband beside me playing Destiny, our birds clambering over their cage talking to each other, a cup of tea on the table, and a small book at my side.

The book came with a card, and the words in the card made me tear up a little bit. Both the book and the card were gifts from two special colleges of mine - they were both members of my small staffroom for my first year of teaching, one was also my boss-lady for day-to-day happenings. Book and card were handed to me surreptitiously at the end of a goodbye dinner, with a furtive "We thought this was perfect".  We then laughed at the possibility of me getting home, unwrapping it, and having to send a high-pitched, forced smile "...thanks!", while putting the gift somewhere to be conveniently lost.

I then get home and actually unwrap it. I read the card first, and can hear the words actually being said by these two incredible women. Their way of writing brings across their personalities perfectly, and I am touched and amused by what they have written. The card mentions the desire to  have something physical to write in while travelling, in contrast to the '15 blogs, a wiki, a Facebook, probably a Twitter and all sorts of electronic stuff', and I immediately know what the brown-paper-wrapped gift is.

What I was not prepared for was the wash of emotions as I unwrap and flip through the notebook (with obligatory attached pen - in pink!). There are beautiful illustrations of birds and travel icons spaced throughout outlines that desperately called to be coloured in. Every 10 pages or so is an illustration accompanied by a quote about travel, not one of them the typical, well-known ones. As I read through these, I realise that they now all apply to me. I realise, with crashing clarity, that I only have two weeks left in the only country I have ever known. Two weeks left with my family and friends. Two weeks left in comfort, familiarity, and convenience. Two weeks left of 'known'.

In two weeks time, almost to the minute of writing this post, we will be taking off from Brisbane International Airport; bound first for Dubai, then on to London. It will be both of our third long-haul flights (if you count there and back as separate flights), and we will be travelling with a suitcase apiece and our emotions locked tight.

A suitcase. It seems such a bizarre yet common thing to store your life away in.

This realisation, that this is a thing that is happening, brings with it such a plethora of emotion that it's a little hard to comprehend. All of the obvious ones are there - excitement, nervousness, sadness and happiness - but there's also the ones like stress, apathy, independence, betrayal. All of the side-emotions that tend to be pushed away in favour of the obvious ones. But it is these side emotions that hit me the hardest when I flipped through that book. These side emotions that I've been ignoring for weeks, months, because they are related to 'an event', one that is 'happening in the future'.

But, at risk of being extremely corny, that future is now.

And it has finally, truly hit me.