68 I'm back
I had saved over ten thousand dollars. An escape fund. Enough to get me out of here and over there and when I got there, I’d never come back. Capital N, Never. So what went wrong? Everything, really and nothing.
When I drove out of this driveway, sure it would be my last, past the Bedford, past the paddocks, spraying mud, I remember turning, looking back, I remember thinking, goodbye.
I didn’t follow a man or a job or a dream. And that was probably the heart of the problem. There was no reason pulling me away. More it was me, pushing me. There was no tugging string, just the overwhelming sense, the need to get away, away from the tedium that is a dairy farm and life lived by the regularity of cows heading in and out of sheds, tuned precisely by engorgement.
What I discovered is when you’re pushed, you fall, and I did, flat on my face. In my confidence that there would be better, I purchased a one-way ticket. Burn your bridges I had said aloud. A good soldier never looks back, I had scoffed as I entered my credit card number. Life is not a revolving door. No second chances. Make it or break it. I broke it. And when it was seriously broken Dad bailed me out. I’ll give him this though, not once has he said, he was right. Cos he could. He could lord it. He was, in some ways, right. And yet, quite wrong.
What I’ve realised is this, I had to go away to discover that there is just another way of saying, here. There problems are the same, just a little different. The issues others face are the same, just a little different. And I soon realised why be there when I could be here.
And so here I am, power walking in gumboots that rattle on my ankles, schlomping down the drive to jump start the Bedford. Good morning cows! I’m back. Good morning grass! I’m back. Good morning world! I never actually left. Welcome to me.