For the next week nothing registered. Thinking was beyond me and understanding wasn’t even an option. All I knew was everything I knew was gone; late night shopping at Chadstone, Moomba, the Melbourne show and Ashwood tennis were thing in my past.
For months while I watched Nooser sunrises, I longed to see my breath form an icy vapour on a chilly Melbourne morning. Everything I saw, tasted or heard couldn’t compete with Melbourne. I remember my first day at Brisbane State High; everyone was so friendly and trying to involve me in everything. Chansmelly (don’t worry it’s only a nickname for Chantal) and Sonya introduced me to all their friends; but no matter what anyone said I took everything the wrong way, immediately defended Melbourne. Like when Nadien (one of Sonya’s friends) asked “so you must be loving the weather here?” to which I retaliated “the sun makes my skin go dark”. No matter how hard I tried I was constantly taking offence.
As I remanence thorough my days of “Melbournian Snobbery” (as I like to call it) I can’t believe I was ever that stubborn. Apart from despising every aspect of Queensland, I blamed by mum (in particular as she informed me of our move to Queensland) for the horrible time I had. I was constantly on her case, blaming her for everything; “my geans are bad enough, how can I put up with the sum as well?” I’d taunt ever so often. I knew I was acting like a little kid but it didn’t stop me. I longed to go home.
My parents, friends, strangers and even my pets put up with my unrepenting juvenile behaviour for over two summers, until I finally got my own way. I was coming to Melbourne. I was going to feel the busyness of real city life, the excitement of late night shopping at Chadstone and nimbly chill of Melbourne mornings. I was coming home.
After two year my image of Melbourne had grown, I expected the traffic to be more chaotic and life in general to be faster. Especially in the weeks nearing my arrival in Melbourne (consequently at Tiddamen Boarding-house); my expectations soared to unrealistic heights.
As you can imagine the utopia that had manifested was far from the truth. Even as I landed on that frosty summer’s day I felt my excitement subside, filled instead by a shire disappointment. The touch of cold wind combined with due once gave warm Goosebumps, now it’s prickly like a thousands of needles. While the traffic which once excited me now put me to sleep. I’m home again. But it’s not the same.
Now I find myself sit down trying in vainly to slow time down; waiting and counting until I will be home again. Home again in Queensland.
Akkie is my nickname at home and Jenny was my netball coach
