Recently I sorted through my memory box. This a box I store special keepsakes in. I have high school formal tickets, high school leaving gifts, special cards from people, and a few other trinkets. There’s a lot that’s either from or relates to the country town I grew up in.

I miss it. I miss the bush. I miss the sleepy vibe that only a country town has. I miss the amusing store names, and the small town community. I miss my house there. I miss the bushland I used to walk my dog in. I miss my high school. I miss all of it.

But I haven’t lived there for over ten years. The house we lived in has a new owner. My family don’t live in that town, or that state. I don’t have any friends that live there. I don’t know anyone there. There’s nothing for me to go back to. Nothing.

Yet I’ve been crying so many tears over it. Missing home. Missing familiarity. Missing the summer heat, and the evening cool breezes. Missing walking everywhere because there was no public transport, and I was physically well enough to walk.

I’m sure there’s more that I’m missing, but I can’t put my finger on it. I feel like I’m being drawn back to that sleepy, country town. The urge to book a plane ticket and just go is overwhelming. My physical limitations means visiting now would be difficult, and getting around almost impossible.

I’m also quite sure going back would bring up a lot of memories, and unexpected memories. Memories I don’t even know are there are most certainly can’t prepare for. Impulsively buying plane tickets and going back would be unwise, yet I’m feeling such a strong pull to return.

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