I’m staring at the countless passengers dressed as if Christchurch will only have a slight “chill.” Little do they know, I’m a seasoned Cantabrian and am expecting about 3Ā°C when we land at midnight.

The adventure is over. Not because it had to be but because I chose it to be. I’m sitting on the aeroplane as I type this out thinking of all the new adventures I’m going to have at home.

Brisbane just didn’t click with me. I’m a very country girl who wanted to try out the big smoke and decided I like the tide a little more calm than rapid. There’s no shame in that. I believe it takes great courage to admit that it didn’t work. I easily could have toughed it out to impress everyone. But the only person I need to impress is myself. And I have. Not every eighteen year old moves straight out of home to another country.

Crushed in beside a man I’ve never met and trying to get comfortable in the tiniest seat ever, going home, will be worth it. The air is making my nose sting and my poor elbows are sore on the padless arm rests. I’m watching the monitor as the digital plane is swooping over the sea. The seat belt sign remains illuminated as we’re riddled with turbulence. My heart jumps every time.
I’m dying to see my sister. She doesn’t know I’m on my way and I’m hoping I’ll be the best 1 am wake up call ever. Mum will be at the airport, waiting impatiently. I can’t wait for familiarity, to feel the comfort of home.

Despite wanting all that I had an absolute blast. Armed with the best friend I enjoyed every last drop of it. I soaked up as much of Brisbane as I could. Wasting away some days and exploring on the others. My head has absorbed most of Brisbane’s pool of knowledge. Knowledge that I’ll take back home.

Almost there. A cute little girl is handing out the lollies like I used to at that age. Grabbing a big handful to share with my family, I remember the novelty of these jawbreakers and tooth decay makers. This means we’re close to home. I’m itching to get out of my seat. I’m 90% sure my knees have seized up permanently.

I can see the lights of Christchurch from the windows like a thousand tiny torches. The whirring as the wheels pull down ready to land. My stomach lurches, whether it’s from descent or nerves, I’m not sure. A bump and a squeal later, we’re rolling to the terminal. I blast through security and customs like there’s no tomorrow. I’m so excited. I roll my trolley of bags out of the international terminal to see my mum waiting for me. She gives me one of those massive, crushing hugs and a few tears are shed.
I can finally feel it, I’m home.

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