I jumped into my DeLorean on Friday night and commenced my
epic drive to Sydney.
About 6 hours in, I realised that I’m too old for this shit.
26 is too old to be working all day, and then driving all night. I used to be able
to get by on no sleep at all. Work all day, go out til 5 in the morning, and
then be back at work at 9. I don’t know how I did it.
Husband, Small Boy Dog, Small Girl Dog and I arrived in
Sydney at 4:45am. Family’s Large Round Girl Dog was startled but seemed quite
happy to share her bed with two energetic sneezing creatures at dick fuck
o’clock.
We had a wedding last weekend to attend in the Hunter Valley
and another one to attend next weekend in Avalon, and I’m staying with my
family for a week, and working out of my companies Sydney office. Husband has
flown home to Melbourne for the week, but will be back up next weekend to be
best man.
The thing that I always notice first when I go back home, is
how low down the light switches are. I can’t find them in the dark, because I’m
searching the wall 3 inches above where they’re actually located. I know this
is because I’ve gotten taller from when I lived there, but it’s like everything
in the house has subtly shrunk. I’m sleeping in my old room again which has the
brightness of a thousand suns from 5:30 in the morning til about 5:30 at night.
It’s a very strange feeling, it’s like I’ve actually gone back in time. I lie
in bed in my teenage bedroom and text husband and read books. I get lunch
packed for me, and dinner is ready when I get home. There are biscuits in the
pantry and white bread in the freezer. There’s real butter and sweet sandwich
pickles and the barbeque sauce lives in the cupboard. There’s pork roasts on
Sundays and jelly fluff for dessert. My Grandfather comes with me in the
mornings to the train station so I don’t have to leave my car there and I can
get driving practice in, then I ring him when my train goes past Lidcombe and
he drives my car to the station, so I can drive home.
I feel like I’m 19 again and the last 7 years of my life
never happened. I’m getting up at the same time that I used to, going to the
same train station, catching the same train, fighting for the same seats,
getting my hand wedged in (probably) the same sweaty man’s armpit because he
thinks it’s appropriate to lean against the pole that other people use to hold
on, and when the train lurches around corners he catches himself with his
armpits instead of his hands. I’m walking to the same office, stopping at the
same coffee shop and drinking the same (terrible) coffee. I’m having lunch with
the same people and complaining about the same things. I’m not seeing Husband
during the week, just like I used to, back when he was Boyfriend instead of
Husband. I’m being fussed over and allowed to go to bed early without anyone
making fun of me. I get to hide in my room and read all the trashy sci-fi books
I want. I’m going to a BBQ on Friday night with the same friends that I used to
spend every weekend with from when I was 11 til I moved to Melbourne at 22.
It all feels slightly off though. A bit like I’m a round peg
in an oval hole. I still fit, but it’s not seamless like it used to be. I’ve
changed a lot in the last 7 years. I’m more independent, less able to factor in
the needs of a lot of people; I’m not as good at being in a fast paced
environment or being around crowds. As much as I have bemoaned being a grown up
and paying rent and bills and doing grocery shopping, you can’t go back in
time. You can’t be a teenager again, even if you do everything the same way you
used to. Life changes you, and if you do try to go back, sometimes you realise
what you have now isn’t so bad.
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