From the burning land down under

Though the land is scorched and you’re hearing of the destruction, we are safe and sound here in Lemon Tree Passage. Though we’ve had some smoky, hazy days, the fires are not in our area. The days are hot and humid, but not at all like the conditions elsewhere in Australia.

We arrived here just before one of the biggest family Christmas’ that my Mum’s family have ever had. Because the stars aligned, we were all home and could all attend. We came from all over NSW and the world. It was busy and full and raucous. After everyone had left, our little Newluks tribe joined my brother and his family camping. The kids really connected and it made my heart sing to see Adelaide and her eight year old cousin, Aiden, hold hands and jump off rocks into the river together. They seem to share a similar temperament and we couldn’t stop them swimming, jumping and playing. 

As the New Year quietly rolled in, we toasted it in the warm darkness of our bush camping spot. Later, we packed up the camp to return to real life; the reality of this new life overwhelming us a little. We fill each day with a few hours of home schooling, oodles of form filling, house hunting and job seeking. If we’re lucky we may get out on an adventure, say a kayak or a bike ride, but more often than not we’re wading through the morass of settling in. 

Today, out of the blue, Adelaide buried her head in my waist and began sobbing her little heart out. She so rarely cries anymore, it took me aback. All the more confusing as it was completely unexpected. Through her tears and hiccups I finally understood that she was having a moment of desperately missing her Whitehorse best friend. 

“I just wish,” she sobbed, “that Ember could come. For just one day.” Her heartache was such that we called Ember, whose greeting of love was such that Shea and I ended up in tears.

We’re all adrift at the moment. Happy to be here, but floundering a little. We’re feeling the absence of all that usually grounds us; our home, our jobs, our routines, our community. And though we’re usually good at wearing the lens that views this all as a grand adventure, sometimes it feels a bit crazy. And we ask ourselves, are we doing this voluntarily?