Hazy Jet-Lag Fog

The final hours of walking on fertile Irish soil. Bags packed to jet across the world. Two boys to mend my broken heart. Painful goodbyes, that never seem to become easier. Last hugs, holding on oh so tight, Irish eyes crying. Please keep going as you are Papa. Your strength never faltering. It has been amazing to watch you rise. A last glimpse in the flesh of those glorious angel faces. Last drive, last meal, last hug , last kiss… be brave. See you in a year’s time. Fingers and toes crossed.

Two airplanes to catch without a hitch. A Dad anxiously waiting half way across the world. Gather all my belongings, hold them tight, feel their strength. My dear boys I thank you, and thank you, and thank you, for taking care of your Mama. An expert landing. A small boy grinning from precious ear to ear. A hug from Daddy is so very near. Heavy bags loaded, baby strapped safely to my heart, boy grasping on tightly to my quivering hand. Mood high, excitement………..bang, we are stuck in no man’s land. Too big to fit through the door. No offer of help just a request to “squeeze by”. Mood falling. Disappointment at some people’s disregard. 

Prince charming comes to the rescue. Hugs, kisses, smiles. Our baggage and an unexpected feeling of homesickness is loaded into the back of the car. A delighted boy with lots to say, in between so many exclaims, “Daddy I missed you, I missed you, I missed you”. 

Stuck in a hazy jet-lag fog, trying desperately to sleep ourselves out. Surrounded by that old familiar feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sickness for the home. A sickness that no pill could ever cure. 

Look ahead, be thankful. Focus on the challenge in front, discovering the surviving nature amongst the ever expanding concrete, the rush rush rush, the shop shop shop, the want, the need, and the disillusionment.

Above us endless blue skies, and frangipani trees waiting for their moment to bloom. Small budding orange blossoms. Healing food for the future. Chillies for spice, lemons for a twist. A Kookaburra’s loud song to welcome us home. 

Follow me on this journey, speak your mind as we go.
Do you ever get home sick, no matter for how long or how far you roam?


2 thoughts on “Hazy Jet-Lag Fog

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  1. Finding it hard to stop my tears – the blue skies of Australia give me some comfort to know you are looking forward despite the awful feeling of homesickness – I miss my handsome prince and my sunshine boy and you – I will look forward too – forward to the next journey!
    xxx Mamó

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