"I'm not fragile but happily broken for what I desire"

Several things have happened in the past week that I never imagined I would experience; I’ve taken a shower with a cockroach clinging to the wall next to me. A giant green frog jumped out of the toilet right as I was about to sit down. And I lured a wallaby out of the dining room with a biscuit and then sat on the ground while she came onto my lap and ate. But of all these things, I think my favorite experience happens every time I raise my head and take in my surroundings; I stop and realize that I am living and working on a tropical island in the Southern Hemisphere. The view is absolutely stunning and the wildlife abounds. There’s no separation between human and animals and yesterday I had a goanna (kind of like a smaller version of a komodo dragon) run across my feet while I was ironing sheets on the porch. The small scale of the resort (10 cabins, 20 guests at one time) gives it a family feel but it is so remote and off-grid that it also possesses the feel of an episode of Lost (pre Michelle Rodriguez, of course). And while all of this is amazing and dream-like, my mind still finds its way back to the Pacific Northwest of the United States on a regular basis. This past year and a half has been full with travel, excitement, new faces and invaluable experiences but there seems to always come a time when we long for home. And as I sit on the porch, surrounded by tropical amazingness and a warm ocean breeze playing through my hair, a voice that always makes me homesick is spilling from my headphones (that would be Rob of Floater) and making my soul miss my City of Subdued Excitement, my wonderful town of Bellingham; the only place in the world that I have ever felt truly ‘home’. My 30 years have been full of saying goodbye to people I love and this past year in particular has been brimming with goodbyes. I have met some incredible people that I might never have crossed paths with if I had continued my life in Bellingham and yet these people only come into my life for such a short period of time. While I don’t regret my decision to uproot and radically change my life, these past few weeks have been tainted with depression for the things I lost; the things I willingly walked away from and the things that I’m not sure I’ll ever experience again. A stable life and a loving spouse are not things that should be underrated. However, this past year has been one that I will remember until my dying day and it scares me when I think about how close I came to passing this up. I suppose this life is a double-edge sword; those of us that live as nomads are witness to nature’s great and powerful beauty. We meet others just like ourselves; people that feel confined by everyday life, but we also sacrifice and learn to live without what others consider to be necessity. We say goodbye to people we’ve come to care about and are never sure when we will meet again. We learn to be happy alone and thoroughly soak up the time we spend with loved ones. I knew when I chose this life that I would be surrendering everything but I didn’t realize that the payback for my sacrifice would be a bittersweet mixture of amazing adventure and deep loneliness. It’s taken a sacrifice of a very good life and a resulting year of invaluable experience to make me realize that my heart belongs in the Pacific Northwest, going to Floater shows and Halloween night performances of Thriller, paddle boarding on Lake Padden and drinking coffee at Boulevard Park with my peeps. Who knows what will happen at the end of this year in Australia, I’ve learned to never attempt to predict life, but I feel my roots pulling me back home…at least for a little while:)