Finality

I'm leaving tomorrow. My bike's all packed in a box and I hope the girls in the lfight companies were right about me just strolling over to qantas and paying 120 aussie dollars for them to fly the big box home to Denmark. We'll see tomorrow. It's very interesting.
It's also very strange to be leaving, it felt so familiar to come back, or home to New Zealand. It's autumnal and recognisable and mountainous and might as well be Scandinavia, just with nikau palms and cabbage trees.

But I do look forward to home, to see my friends, my family, have a job, eat Danish rye bread and liquorice, hold hands with the loved one every day and sleep in the same bed every night, to not share dorm rooms with snooring strangers, to have more than two sets of clothes. It's also slightly scary. What if I forget how wonderful this was and don't go out again? If I just get a nine to five and have kids and tell about back when mum was cool and biked New Zealand and sailed to Fiji?
I don't think I will forget though. I'll probably remember so hard that there is no option but going out again.

Again, again again, I have to come back to this place.