I've been home at my parents to spend Thanksgiving with them. Tonight is the last night I'll be an American. My journey to assimilate into the Aussie culture will begin in less than 24-hours. Ty's friend, Elizabeth, is waiting for me on the other side of the world. She has graciously offered to pick me up from the airport--a big stress reduction for me. I am thankful I have a friend in her and to Ty for introducing us via Facebook.
I know I should be excited at this new chapter in my life, but every time I think of it burning tears well up in my eyes. My heart is heavier than all of my four pieces of luggage combined. "Are you excited?" a friend asks. "Are you ready?" another inquires. I cannot confidently say yes to either query. I have been so displaced in the past 25 days I ponder the meaning of home. Does an address define home? Is it a feeling? They say home is where the heart is, but my heart is homeless. It is not quite out of San Diego, not quite at home in the OC, and not anywhere near Sydney.
More time, is what I keep hoping for, but I know no amount of time in the world could ever be enough. Time to take the plunge ready/like it or not. One thing is for certain, I'm ready to cast my roots again, at least for the next 6 weeks till I find a real "home."
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