The Silent Drive Home

There is nothing more silent than a solo drive home from the airport.

After the discussions of how much time to allow, suitcases to pack, last minute ticket reviews and a quick bite to eat. After the drive down the highway, the missed turn off, the mild panic to find the right road, and the hurried drop off while the traffic police view your farewell with suspicion. After faces that were there when you were 17, 21, at your wedding, and the birth of your first child. After kisses are planted on well recognised cheeks and goodbye waves are flurried; you drive silently to your home while you think of them heading back to the home that sits firmly in the middle of your heart.

I came home to a comment on the blog, its timing sharp.

“Luckily my husband values our children’s wishes & his family’s health & isn’t willing to sacrifice that for the financial gain. The key is to just be true to yourself & admit what your heart desires & go for it!”

What did my heart desire?

When I arrived at swimming lessons yesterday I mentioned I’d have to leave on time. “I’ve got guests here” I said to friends as I jumped out of the pool and packed up in a hurry. “Good friends?” my girlfriend asked. “Yes, really good friends.” Although they’re my girlfriend Krissy’s parents, they’re also my friends. The people who lent us the candelabras for our wedding. The same people who put up with me in my heartfelt and passionate twenties, the people who fed me if I was around, drove me to netball if required, and on this last trip home had all of us to stay at their farm. They’re the same age as my parents. Hugh has the same humour as my father, Marion the same organisational and observational skills as my mother “well, you’ll probably want to get onto your study this week before the children go on holidays next week”. When my mother says these things I like to call them suggestive observations.

As I drove them around Doha they asked questions about our lives. They saw where G worked, walked through the little travellers school, administered ear drops and helped out with homework. And along the same vein as a parent, observations were made about lifestyle and finances. A good school, a good job, keep plugging away, set yourself up, get the kids educated. It makes sense to be here. G and I both really respect their opinion. It felt good to share our choices.

When I collected the little travellers from school it was the first question “Did Hoo and Marion go?” the smallest traveller was secretly hoping they’d missed their flight.

“I like them, it was just like having Granny or Grandma” the second traveller threw her bags with gusto into the back of the car.

My heart sank.

“We’ll see Granny at Christmas”.

Be true to yourself & admit what your heart desires & go for it.

The truth is that I want it all. I want G to have the job he loves, I want me to keep being able to work from home. I want the fantastic school for my kids, and I want holidays to destinations that haven’t been available in the past. I want Grandparents who live down the road. I want McLaren Vale wines, and local cliff top restaurants, and morning walks on the beach at Port Willunga. I want the house we had in Houston, the neighbours we had in Canada, the pool we had in Jakarta, and the local doctor we had in Kuala Lumpur. I want to go back to Leptis Magna in Libya, walk along the beach at Sabratha, and wake up to a white christmas in Canada.

I want all of those things because I’ve had all of those things. I’ve been luckier than a lotto winner while forever and possibly always feeling a tug of the heart for home – because that’s how it works. For me. That’s how it works.

My heart desires the discovery, the people we are yet to meet, the places we are yet to go.

Meanwhile the heart still tugs.

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