Postcard from a land down under

You know how sometimes you send a postcard while on holiday but you do it so late in the stay that it doesn't end up arriving to your mates until after your home already? Let's consider this blog post in a similar vein. It's my final installment from the land down under and it was just posted a little late. Hence it arriving in your hands after I'm already cosied back up in my Yukon home. Let's forget that we're living in the digital age where all this is instant and real time. I always did prefer things back when I was a kid...

Our travels ended happily and it was a sad mama who returned to this land of snow and ice. Hence this final postcard to you, friends, is to note some of the holiday moments that allowed me to step back and really think, 'shit, I love this...'

Like when I had the opportunity (a few of them really) to drift to sleep in the same room as my husband and children. To hear the breathing of these three dear ones was a belly-squeezing moment. One on the floor at my feet, one in a tent by my side and another snuggled in beside me in the big bed. It was not necessarily always Mountain Dad beside me but they were all there, sighing softly with the sweet breath of slumber.

Or when I would lay in bed in the early morning listening to the kookaburra's laughing at the dawn. Soon after, the patter, patter of Little Ladie's bare feet would make their way to Granny and Papa's room. Soon after that would come the soft padding of Granny making her way into my room to scoop up wee Buddy and I'd roll over and doze off into nightmares of when I'd need to parent my children on my own.

I revelled in watching my wee ones laugh with those older ones. How their Papa would say to me out of the blue, "Isn't she beautiful/incredible/amazing. You've got a great little family, Camille." (by which I think he really meant Mountain Dad was the best decision I've ever made).

And watching my babies enjoy the warmth of the air, naked and relaxed and happy. And again, by 'babies,' you know we include Mountain Dad in there.

And the feel of sun on the bare skin of my shoulders. And swimming in the frigid ocean whose salt would later dry on my skin in a white, crunchy powder. I love the feel of softly brushing it from my eyelashes between the pads of my fingers.

Or my own personal bliss; Australian cafe's and a well made Flat White.

Or sharing aforementioned Flat White with the company of long-time friends. Those mates who can ask the prying questions about flames of old, dreams of old, opinions of old without the need for filling of details. Friends who knew me before my obsession with baby sleep, baby snow suits and baby bowel movements.

And family. Those folks who champion my fan club, who think my jokes are the funniest, my kids the most gifted and my husband the most charming. Those folks who rile me up, challenge my equilibrium and make me more irate than our current government.

Man it was a good trip.


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