Travelin' band

Vintage Creedence Clearwater Revival shirt and daisy-print maxi skirt; Topshop boots (similar here); Etsy boot chains; markets/eBay rings.

I fell asleep in the car last night, in a furry jacket and with my boots tucked up on the seat, clutching a tissue box full of sea urchin shells. Humble was stretched out and snoring on the back seat and Scotty was seeing us through the last few hundred kilometres home.

We were all tired and we didn’t want to arrive home, because home just meant work tomorrow and normal life and paying the tolls that we’d driven through to get out of the city in the first place.

And mostly because that afternoon, just a few hours before, we’d been sitting around a fire-pit in the backyard, cooking fish the boys had pulled out of the sea earlier in the day, drinking tins, watching the dogs roll in the grass and soaking up a bit of south-coast sunshine. 

It's always hard leaving Eden.

There’s an eternal war raging between my quiet, content, smalltown-self and my restless, seeking, city-self. Sometimes, I want to move back to the coast, raise goats, adopt dogs, listen to Creedence and swim in the creek; and other times I’m thankful that I’m never going to run out of new things to see in the city.

More than anything, I guess, I’m grateful that we get to do a bit of both.