Ten days of being overseas, and everything is back to what it was before once more. Slipping back into the routine hasn’t proved difficult. Moving around is a trifle annoying though, with the ankle the way it is.
Back to the latest “holiday”.
I’m very thankful for these annual trips. They allow me to recharge, to hit the pause button and forget about my existence in Melbourne for a while.
It might sound strange, but I think of my lives in Singapore and Melbourne as being quite discrete. Singapore was the ordinary route, the cookie cutter life. It was just being another guy on the street doing a job and living the Singaporean life cycle, period.
Melbourne was the beginning of another life altogether, one that went right off the relative tangent. I had to start from ground zero all over again. New country, new environment and culture, and most of all?
Blazing a new trail without the support of friends and family. It didn’t feel that way but on hindsight, it sure was a tough road back then.
Coming home is is like a regression to who I was. Same old home, same old room, same old everything else. Just the same old self, doing his usual shit and living the unfettered life of a dude without worries once more. Nothing about the other half, the kid, the home, just wandering around and enjoying my bullshit with good friends. Just getting home late and crashing into bed, the way it always was. It’s about returning to who I was, and in a way, reliving the old memories once more.
Time never stops moving, and everyone has moved on with their lives. Coming back feels like I’m picking up from where I left off. It feels like I’ve come out of stasis and returned to living the old me for a few days. It’s obviously self-denial because it’s never exactly the same, but I treasure the days at home much more with every year that passes.
Just for a few days, I’m free to forget about everything else and remember only me.