Missing Home

There are those days in your life where you feel something is missing and for me that something is usually Australia.

I grew up in Australia after moving to Sydney when I was 8 years old. Originally from New Zealand, I have never really called it my home unlike Australia. Oz is the one place I come back to every time I feel this empty sad missing feeling-almost like that feeling when you're about to burst into tears but you hold them back so much that your throat starts to become sore and dry.

I miss the sand, like gold trickling through your hands as it warms up on a Summer morning at Bondi.
I miss the sound of people talking mindlessly about their weekends with friends
I miss the water, so deep and salty, full of life in waves that the surfers worship
I miss the food, so nourishing, tasteful and familiar
I miss the roar of CityRail and the angry remarks about delayed trains
I miss the skyscrapers, so delicately reaching for the sky with windows like mirrors finding reflections in the clouds

But I only miss it for a few minutes till I look upon this beautiful face:

And then, at that very moment, that second of sadness. My heart becomes warm and my sadness turns to joy.