Home.

Our last day in South Africa was awful. Not that we had a bad day, just awful in the fact that it was time to say goodbye. We all acted like it was just another day. Everything was fine. But underneath this false sense of calm, there was a storm brewing. The time to leave ticked closer, and we went on with our day, trying to ignore the fact that in a few hours Harrison and I would be on a plane home. I say home, but after travelling for so long I wonder; where is home truly? There were so many places we visited that after a while, kind of felt like home. After a long day we would say ‘it’s time to go home’ without even thinking of it, referring to whatever hostel we were staying in. And after 3 months, South Africa felt like home. I don’t want to be corny and say ‘home if wherever you heart is’ but I’ve learnt that in a way it’s true. You can make anywhere home if you want to. Your body is your home, and thankfully that means home is mobile. Sure, there were places that we went where it felt the complete opposite to home, and I couldn’t ever think of calling them home; but then again to many people those places are home. Anyway enough with the rambling.  The time did finally come for us to leave, no matter how hard we willed it not to. Harrison and I said goodbye to my Aunt and Uncle and cousin Ian at home, and then left to drive to the airport with my cousin Lyndsay, my nana and her friend. We made small talk and tried to forget about the goodbye looming in the near future.  But we did arrive at the airport, and once we were there it was a rush of checking our bags in and having to say goodbye. There were tears, and it was traumatic. The hardest thing about leaving my family in South Africa is that I never know when I am going to see them again. It could be this year, or in 5 years. That was always the hardest part for me.  And being with people for 3 full months, seeing them every single day and then having to say goodbye for who knows how long is heartbreaking. It’s like this rock of sadness and fear in your chest that threatens to engulf you and drag you down. It’s incredibly difficult.

To make the whole situation worse, once we had said our goodbyes and walked through the checking in area, we were faced with the longest passport control queue I think I have ever seen. We waited for almost 40 minutes, when I wanted nothing more just to sit down and be in peace. Luckily the flight wasn’t too bad. Although I did have an old lady sitting next to me who just did not want to stop chatting. I learnt a lot about her life on that 11-hour flight. We made it through customs back in Sydney, and walked through, back to the real world. And then our families were there, hugging us and crying. It still didn’t feel real yet. We were really back. Almost 9 whole months had passed.  How could it have possibly gone so quickly? Time is not your friend.  You think you have so much of it, when in reality you have so little. And it goes so fast. You really have to grab it and make the most of what you are given.

                                                                              

We have been back for over a month now, and our experiences overseas seem like a dream. Did that all really happen? If it did how did we fall so easily back into the exact same life as before? As if we haven’t both been changed so immensely? I know I am not the same person that left Australia almost 10 months ago, but yet here I am, already back into the same routine. It is a really strange feeling.  Of course there are photographs, and memories that prove it did really happen, but it truly feels like we never left. It has me itching to get out there and see even more of the world. If only travel wasn’t so expensive.