so they say home is where the heart is, and now, after years and years of naive thinking that going far away for a very long time is going to do me good, i have finally come to terms with accepting that that saying, as cliche as it is, is true.
don't get me wrong; i love being in Melbourne, and the freedom that comes with it (mostly about the zero nagging i get when i end up wasted on my bathroom floor) -- hell, i even miss waking up at whatever hour of the day i want and walking out to go get some awesome souvlaki from Lambs on Lygon Street, only to pop back in and continue watching How I Met Your Mother.
but there's something irreplaceable about seeing your parents sitting on the couch trying to fight off your dog, who's desperately eyeing the apple slices in their hands, or sitting around a table at your favorite nightly haunt, watching the boys groan as the opposing football team scores a one-up over their favorite.
yesterday, i woke up with a start at 9am, flailing, disoriented, wondering really, where the fuck am i?. then i heard my dog barking at the delighted screams of the kids in the playground opposite, and realized with a happy burst that i was home in my own bed, away from all the nightmarish mental monsters that haunted me so frequently in Melbourne.
so yes, i love being home. and i always know where i'll belong, no matter how far i run :)
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