8,500 miles

There are days where this feels like home. Other days, not so much.

Granted, we don't speak the same language by a long shot. It's quite noticable at times. For example, on Fridays, it is very pronounced that I am not from here. I help in my little girls classroom with the other mothers to test the kids on their weekly spelling words. Several of the children I CAN NOT test. Because of my accent. They get words wrong, lots of words, occassionally all the words. It is not as if I have some huge southern drawl, people often take a while to guess where it is that I am from. So several little kids get to spell their words for the aussie mummies. Those days it feels like I am a long way from home.

Sitting in court listening to my ex's barrister insult me, I felt every mile.

Talking to my mother on the phone and trying to temper what I say so that she doesn't worry too much, I feel very far from home.

On the other hand, playing indoor soccer with friends and beating far younger opponents, well it feels pretty homey. Meeting girlfriends for coffee, and catching up on life, discussing my options with them about what I'll do depending on how the court case turns out, well it doesn't feel quite so far from home.

Still, I can't get a Route 44 or fresh tortillas, a hug from my momma, or a drink with my sister, 8,500 is a lotta miles.