The last voyage

We leave for Melbourne tomorrow morning, early. The excitement has changed to palpable tension. This flight brings our lollygagging to a close; reality and routine are about to become the norm. I both look forward to and dread the metamorphosis. There will be bills to pay and deadlines and most mornings will begin with an alarm. But that alarm will soon sound in our own home where we will (hopefully) be sleeping in our own bed.

I also portend some tension between Z and I. Moving to Melbourne is like going home to me. Though I haven't lived in that home for 15 years, I still have a vague sense of my way around and rough idea of what to expect. I am Australian, after all. Z, on the other hand, is not. Not only has he never lived in Melbourne, he has never lived out of the States. To him, Melbourne seems like a long way from home and full of foreign people, foreign customs and foreign accents - including mine, which is about to get a whole lot stronger. He will be the one who occasionally won't understand people, including me. Here in Wellington, we shared our immigrant status and miscomprehension of the "natives" and their "customs". In Melbourne, we will be in decidedly different boats. To take the metaphor too far, we will need to learn to row at the same speed.

So, while I will be itching for a home and more than a little anxious to find one, Z will need to take time to feel out the city and to gauge what it will be like to live there. I want to charge ahead; he wants to hold back. I'm sure that we will negotiate this with some element of grace though all will not be roast chicken and apple pie. I need to remember to go easy on him; I know how difficult it can be to move countries.

But soon enough, I suppose, I will be able to cook that dinner for my love in our new home. The tension will have been negotiated, the routines set and comfortable. And then we can start planning our next big adventure.

Ha!