Heart, you are doing an amazing job at keeping the ball rolling on life in the midst of the chaos and stress and exhaustion of packing. I know you hate moving. I know you hate living and working in a home that looks like the entire contents of your life have been vomited out of the cupboards and into the middle of the lounge room floor. You’re working so hard! I see it and I appreciate it. I know you’re longing for a simpler life and this feels like the exact opposite.
We’re doing this for that dream – so we can get ourselves free of the push of Sydney. So that instead of planes and traffic and construction and noisy late-night neighbours, you’ll hear the creek and the wind and the waves outside the van and you’ll get up to do a wee and see the stars. Ah the stars!! So brilliant and breathtakingly high-definition!
Despite the light bulb only being invented less than 150 years ago, we are losing site of the stars. A third of the world’s population can no longer see the Milky Way because of the light pollution surrounding our cities. You’re not alone in the feeling that life wasn’t meant to be lived this way. It’s not normal.
So, we’re getting in our van and going to Tasmania where you can still see the stars (because ten people live in Sydney for every one person on the whole of Tassie). You’re going to breathe clean, clean air, swim in cold, cold water, watch the mountains change as the light moves over them and float on your back in the creek in the sun as the clouds float with you.
You’re going to eat good, simple food that nourishes you, picked straight from your brother’s garden. You’re going to go on walks in the bush while your Mum points out native orchids, snap off tightly furled bracken buds to prevent them overtaking the track, pick the last of the summer’s blackberries and learn everything your sister knows about foraging for mushrooms. You’re going to laugh your head off with your siblings and your Mum as she laughs at herself and your Dad pretends not to smile.
You’re going to pull your van up at Bay of Fires and sleep with the door open right next to the beach. You’re going to eat lobster your husband caught, cooked on the fire, and go to bed with salty skin and your hair smelling of smoke. Pull mussels from the rocks and eat them within hours, simmered in garlic and white wine. You’ll work in the most open plan office of your life and do good work with the fresh air on your face keeping you alert and the promise of a swim or walk on your lunch break.
Heart, I know you weren’t built to be a city dweller. Hang in there, ok? I’m going to get you free.