Legends from our own lunchtimes

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

We liken the Singapore wait in the airline lounge to being in the Restaurant at the end of the universe.    We try to balance that confusion that comes with not knowing whether we are coming or going with the familiarity of our surrounds, but it is to no avail.  

Whenever we are there, our life flashes in front of us as our minds try unsuccessfully  to come to grips with the fact that it has been six months since last we passed, and six more until we will be back.  We  shower and try to relax while at the same time struggling to shuffle the various parts of our lives so that we may deal its cards in their new order.

Have we left the bilge pump on in the boat?
Where did we put the spare car keys in the house?

Despite running over a thousand questions like these, the answers don't come readily to mind, so we board our flight, settle back in our seats, wait our time, lose our night and a day and in our semi-conscious state, walk out through customs in Brisbane one more time.

It's very bright, the sun.  It feels as though it might get hotter too.

Everything is as brown as we want to remember it, but no matter how familiar we try to convince ourselves that we are with these colours, the khakis and beiges of the bush are once again a novelty to our spinning senses as we drive along the motorway.

We are back.

But are we home?

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