You’d think, considering that I’m from Seattle, I would be accustomed to the rain. And to a certain extent, I am. But the difference between my life in Seattle and my life here in Airlie Beach, Australia, is that in Seattle I had a car. Here, I walk. Public transit comes in handy at times but is so damn expensive and downright frustrating that it’s much faster to walk, even in monsoon-force rain. Another difference is that in Seattle there’s the ever-present need to bundle yourself against the biting cold. At least here, wearing minimal clothing and flip flops, you don’t become miserably drenched for the rest of the day. The rain is fitting, though; my time in Australia has been far from what I imagined it to be and the gloomy downpour matches the mood that accompanies me these days. Australia was meant to be my saving grace, my golden land away from the pain of the things I was dealing with in the States. But what’s the lesson we learn about running from your problems? They always follow you. These two months in Oz have consisted of the death of a close family member back home, the finalization of a divorce, the loss of someone that I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with and the heartless murder of my two little meows, which I loved more than anything. The guilt and sorrow that I have felt since the death of my cats has been all-consuming and I have been questioning every decision I have made this past year and a half. Had I chosen to stay in my life in Seattle those two little hearts would still be beating. I could go home now and Ori would be there to flop onto his back at my feet, begging for his tummy to be rubbed. And Kluane would stare at me with those big green eyes and coo in her sweet way right before she does something that she knows is bad. But I can’t go back; I can’t change the things that have happened due to the choice I made. Now, I need to live what I preach: Everything happens for a reason and life always works out the way it’s meant to. So here I am, living in Airlie because the resort I was working at went bankrupt and I decided to stay here and find another job. I am now working for a tall ship sailing company and was able to go on a three day cruise around the Whitsunday’s just before Christmas. On this cruise, I met the most amazing family from Columbia and was pleasantly surprised when they rang on Christmas day and invited me to dinner with them at the marina. Being in the presence of a family such as the Rodriguez’s was both inspiring and heartbreaking at the same time. There is so much more than just shared blood between these parents and their three sons; there is respect. These siblings are as different as they come but they love each other and respect the differences between them. They were truly happy to be in each other’s company and as they toasted their parents with wine over great food, I was overcome with such a lonely feeling inside. I am one of nine siblings (this includes steps and halves) and never have we all sat at the same dinner table, nor will we ever. My life, and my activism work, is something that is a hush-hush subject around my sister and my nephews. Why? Because their life is the complete opposite of mine and rather than try to understand me, they choose to either ignore me or attack me. But family is who you make it and I am fortunate enough to have people that I consider family scatted across the globe. So now, I will be heading back down to Melbourne within the next couple weeks to reconnect with my family there. The plan, as of now, is to stay in Melb for the remainder of my visa and take frequent holidays to see the things around this country that are on my 100 Goals list. I have also been granted my working holiday visa for New Zealand and will spend one year there once my Australian visa has expired. Who knows how long it will be until the next time my feet touch American soil.