Who takes an umbrella to LA? If looks could talk, then the disapproving glare from the airline stewardess instructing me to “stow it” was a long conversation. Upon leaving my flat, my home, on that soaking Sydney winter morning, the umbrella seemed the most essential, normal thing I could carry. But within seconds it had become an inappropriate hangover from a life I would no longer live. A seasoned traveller, I was now that dazed unprepared guy fumbling to get seated for a long distance flight, trying to find a place for an umbrella that suddenly had become completely out of place.
My journey took over twenty years. Sure I took short trips back to see family and take care of “stuff” arising from my unexpected extended departure, but basically I abandoned the life I had. The room in the flat I shared, the girlfriend, the job and friends were left behind in Sydney. It took me several years to retrieve the stuff from my room in the flat, it turned into a strange time-capsule, full of memories including the good, the trivial and others.
Mushrooms seeking shelter
During the next years I lived in various parts of the US, married, found another life and became a citizen of another country.
We are now making the return journey, back to Australia. I am now as much an American as I am Australian. Australia while very familiar, is also a bit foreign. Like the old coat that you used to wear, it feels very comfortable but also fits a bit different - and then there is the stuff you left in the pockets - linty cryptic messages from a yesterday. So now I am “back home”, but unable to assume I really know for sure what is going on, not “getting” the punchline for every joke. Like a “foreigner”, but not - so it’s a bit weirder. There is always another way, another normal.
I make it sound like a big deal - immigrants around the world are doing this every day. Leaving their home, discontinuing a life, engaging anew elsewhere, and trying to fit in. But I never intended to do that - it kind of just happened. I am an Australian - people flock to my country, or seem to want to. It’s a wonderful place to live. So why leave? And if you do, why take so long to return? These are questions that I am still trying to answer fully.
Inverted weed
So what happens to you when a short trip unexpectedly lasts for over 20 years? I did learn at least two things. Leaving a life behind can help you appreciate the one you have. Also true if you do it twice. And as for an umbrella in LA - you won’t need it - trust me on that.