There's No Place Like Home

When I first decided to travel, or rather when I began telling people about my decision, I was told every time without fail, after the “wow that’s so great!”, that missing home was really rather awful and apparently inevitable. Some said it would happen as soon as I got on the plane, others were certain that it would take a few weeks to a month. Either way a time would come that I was sure to suddenly wish I was home with my mummy and daddy and cuddly teddy and wonder why on earth I decided to leave beautiful New Zealand. And so I got on the plane. And I did not miss home. I got off the plane 35 hours later, and I still did not miss home. I travelled for a month and, you guessed it, I STILL did not miss home. By the time I got to Italy and settled in with my new family I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me because I still had not had the heart wrenching tears and unbearable homesickness I had been warned about. It has now been 5 months and I finally realised something. I have been missing home the whole time. Not in the way that everyone described, in fact I have only cried twice since leaving home, neither time having anything to do with homesickness. That got me to thinking and, you see, I believe everyone misses home in their own, unique way. What I have found is that I have been blessed by my lucky stars that I miss home, my family and friends in a very different way than I ever expected. When I remember them or think of them - that is me missing them. I don’t cry heartfelt tears, but I miss home as much as the next person, but just in the most beautiful way possible. And what’s more, I find myself missing the weirdest things I never even thought were particularly special!

 

Leaving on a jet plane

I miss home when I see Beatrice giving her mother endless kisses by remembering with a smile the hugs and kisses I would get every day from my mother, the last squeezie hug I had given her before I got on that white and blue Air New Zealand plane, and being excited for the day when I would finally be able to wrap my arms around her again. Whenever I go running I think about Dad working out at the gym and can’t wait to go home so we can go together, try and beat each other’s leg press and laugh at the majority of people who seriously need to learn how to use a rowing machine properly. I constantly find myself thinking of something right in the middle of the day that I REALLY want to tell my big sister, and bombard her with messages telling her to wake up, even though I know I won’t get a reply until her morning (my evening). I will see a beautiful horse in a field and wish I could be watching my baby sister riding again who long ago surpassed any ounce horse riding ability I ever had. When I think of my family I always end up smiling, because I know despite how much I miss them, my missing them will only make our reunion that much sweeter.

 

My last dinner with my amazing family

My beautiful baby sister

 Sometimes I will just be sitting eating lunch, reading, or playing with the kids and suddenly I will remember something about New Zealand that I never realised I had found special. I will think fondly back to the way that the light always came into my bedroom window in dancing shadows due to the large tree in our back yard, with a slightly red hue from my curtains. Or our stupid driveway that had so many potholes, not matter how hard I tried I could never find a smooth route up. Every time without fail I would always ended up uncontrollably bumping up and down like an excited child on my car seat. I miss seeing my parents heading off every Saturday to the farmers market and knowing they would return at 2pm with a fresh loaf of Maunganui Gold from the French baker, fresh veges and if I was lucky some delicious bacon which would all be compiled into the perfect BLT lunch. On the topic of food, who knew anyone could miss rolled oats, soft brown sugar and Pic’s natural peanut butter to the point that you make a shopping list to buy the above (minus the Pic’s peanut butter as that is an NZ only, unfortunately) next time you are in England!

Oh the simple pleasures..

I often think of the simple pleasure and joy of having my own car that I took so for granted. Being able to drive 30 minutes from home to the beautiful Mount Maunganui and to be able to look over the whole of Tauranga after a short(ish) slightly pant-inducing walk to the top. Or to drive only 15 minutes from the bottom of my road to reach the top of the Kaimais and look out over Matamata way at the endless green and raw beauty that is New Zealand. I used to laugh when people gawked, ooohed and aaahhed over water falls or the “wild” New Zealand bush. It was so normal to me! But oh, what I would give to stand among that pesty, yellow gorse, listening to the symphony of birds and the endless thrumming of cicadas.  To know that, if I wanted, I could drive for hours with the only sign of civilisation being the road I was on and the occasional farm house with a barking dog, letting me know it was not abandoned. And to stop at a petrol station, buy a mars bar even though I know I shouldn’t and continue on my way, munching that delicious goodness, window down and wind in my hair.

Top of the Mount view

 

Beautiful, wild and green New Zealand

And then horror of horrors, I find myself missing a memory I thought I would have banished from my mind. My last year of school which seemed so endless at the time, seems a too short sweet memory filled with coffee dates during free periods, group study that turned into doodle sessions and invaluable time and fun with friends that we will never be able to have in quite the same way. I sometimes even fondly remember my scratchy school skirt, my polo that always managed to stretch into the weirdest shapes or my school jumper that would never fail to receive a comment due to the hole I had somehow acquired under the armpit and that despite telling myself numerous times to fix, I never did.

Did I really say I missed that uniform!?

Even now as I write I find myself smiling and laughing over the memories I have and how much I miss it all. I love where I am, I truly do, and I can now say with certainty that my life has taken me on a course which does not lead back to New Zealand at the end of this year. But I will continue to miss my beautiful country, the beautiful people that fill it and keep the memories in the front of my mind, always reminding me what an amazing place it is that I get to call my home.

The place I get to call my home