I’m coming home!
It’s been in the planning for a long time, but now at last I am able to say it.
No matter how often I’ve written and rewritten this post in my head, I couldn’t commit the words to screen even in draft form, because until it became a reality I wouldn’t be able to guess how I might feel. And it’s not how I expected – not at all.
I am coming home, to beer in pubs like the Unicorn, to friends and family, to wide open spaces, to watching my friends kids grow up, (not to mention my nephew who doesn’t like having his photo plastered all over Flickr).
The last 18 months have been a roller coaster of raised hopes, broken promises and finally, an end in sight. I have raised more than one glass on the way hoping that this time it was real.
And now it is.
I have a date in mind. I will spend my last Queensday in this crazy beautiful city, but by the summer I will be settled in somewhere new. On the Solstice I will watch the sunset from an English hillside. That’s my plan but even if it rains, I’ll be happy to be home again.
But today I am a mess of emotion. I feel like laughing out loud, jumping, screaming, crying. And none of it feels real. Not yet. Something I have spent so long dreaming of, planning, wanting is finally within my reach and I can’t take it in.
I’ve been on the verge of tears all day because Amsterdam is the kind of lover that you know right from the start that things will never work out with, but you still love them with all your heart.
And I know England isn’t the same place I left behind, but nor am I. Maybe we’ve both grown up and it’s time to set aside our differences and get on with being reunited.