There are many reactions to the questions we face in life.  Some we take as an affront, others as an attack.  Some questions cause us to burst in to laughter, or to blush with embarrassment.  Still others are glibly dismissed or are answered with ease.  And then there are those that play on our minds for days after they have been posed.  They make us turn deep inside and cause us to examine our beliefs, who we really are and what we hold to be truth.  And to make matters worse, these questions that turn our lives upside down, that become forks in the road of our lives, these questions are always posed when you least expect them.

We all face times when we go to ground.  In the quiet and the darkness we can lick our wounds and take the long slow breaths that we need in order to recover, we can shout and scream and ask the questions we need to ask.  Why?  Why?  WHY?  We can hypothesise and romanticise and indulge our thoughts, even the dark ones.  We can do this without judgement, without fear of reproach.  We do this surrounded by our nearest and dearest, we go into hiding to feel sorry for ourselves and to feel safe in uncertain times.  But there is always a time to re-emerge.

There’s something keeping me up at night, I’m not sure what it is but there is a need in me, a thirst that can’t be slaked.  I toss and turn and wake in a mass of tangled sheets, my mind racing, full of sensations that have no place in sleep.

The recovery process has been rapid, although to be fair I only had one drink, OK, lets call it one and a quarter when you include sampling those of others.  After much laughter and many hours of dancing, not even splitting my trousers would dampen my spirits.  It was a time that we had all been long waiting to celebrate, the gent known as Maurice to many and Papa to a select few, had turned 100 and we were going to celebrate like there was no tomorrow.

There has been so much going on lately in every sphere of my life, Too much to write about here.  Work has had it’s challenges, encased by extreme highs and extreme lows, many meetings, staff illnesses and absences as well as still trying to clear the back log from my trip and the conference, mean lots of late nights and much weekend work.  There is little to no time outside of work at the moment.  Personal life has been busy too with the start of the new academic year - seeing John off to start VCE (where did the years go?) and Deanna about to start at uni.  And somewhere in all this I seem to have thrown my back out…

So, it’s been a while, did you miss me?  I missed me.  Haven’t quite felt like myself for a while.  There are times in life when so much is happening, yet nothing happens all at the same time.   Like a bucket filled with water that spins madly, yet the water is not moving, or like travelling in an airplane, you’re flying yet you’re sitting still (unless you’re one of those aisle walkers).  Lets not get into the physics of it all - yes the object is moving the same speed as the container, but the object doesn’t experience the same pressures as the container (unless disaster hits).  This week, I have been both the bucket and the water at the same time.

As I watch the sun set on my sons childhood I can’t help but reflect on some lessons I’ve learnt over my fundamental years.  Some have been ingrained whilst others smack me up the side of the head when I least expect it as if to remind me that I should have known better.

Ladies and gentleman, It is with great delight that I would like to announce that I won!!  I won in the US Powerball last night.  Not only did I win - but I won big AND small.  Two legitimate emails hit my inbox telling me the great news, one 9,600 times larger than the other!  Don’t worry, it’s not a scam - the money has already been transferred to my account.  And to say thank you, as a winner I would like to take everyone out for a Chicken dinner.

I commented to Mark as we flew our second leg to get back to Melbourne that I felt strange.  It wasn’t just the killer case of flu that he had passed to me, nor exhaustion from the the long layover.  It wasn’t even New York’s farewell, it had more to do with feeling like I had no home.

The last 24 hours in New York were filled with signs.  Initially I was sure that they were signs that I should leave and never return, but upon reflection, I think it was just New York's way of telling me that I shouldn’t leave.  Clearly New York wants me to stay, albeit with a very strange way of saying so, and who am I to say no to such an imposing lady?  Should I have followed the signs or did I do the right thing getting on the plane? 

This was it. Today we would finally make it to the Brooklyn Flea.  After congratulating myself on getting us to the Greenwood Area of Brooklyn instead of Nolita and Little Italy in Manhattan as I had the previous week, I walked us straight past the sign on 36th street (next to the subway entrance), got to 37th and decided we most definitely needed to turn left.  Cheerily walking whilst the wind tousled our hair, greeting locals and getting excited about the bowling alley we passed (just like in the movies), I quickly realised that the large industrial space in front of us showed no signs of life.  Surely this large popular market which was meant to open 90 minutes before would have something moving?  At the very least some cars and flyers?  I turned to the family navigator - SIRI and turned on my heal and exclaimed confidently “This way everybody!”

I sit here - knowing that my friends and family back home are already living in 2016.  I can’t help but take a little extra time to recall some of the brilliance that was 2015.  I am of course still living in the past.  Being in New York I am a full 16 hours behind where I should be, thats 16 hours of reminiscing, shuddering and no so quiet chuckles as I reflect on the year that was.

Dear America, 

After many years of consuming your delightful culture, I am somewhat perplexed and dare I say it? - a little disappointed with my New York Christmas Experience.  Granted, there was 2 nights in Washington DC and we drove home in 6.5 hours of continuos storm that shut down freeways and airports along the east coast the day before Christmas Eve (is that Christmas Eve Eve or Christmas Eve squared or maybe we should just stick with Wednesday), and we went out on Christmas Eve to by Christmas presents, and the was no family or friends to visit on Christmas day, but come on - none of that should affect the dream should it?

Last night, finally, after 30 nights - yes - one whole month and a couple of false starts I moved.  Not to another country, or into another apartment.  Last night, I finally moved into the right time zone, 14 time zones and 30 days later and I'm here baby!!!  New York, here I come!  Bed at 11.20 - asleep by (lets call it) 12 and I didn't wake until 6am.  For those of you that are just getting to know me, 6 hours straight is almost unheard of, and to wake gently feeling calm and refreshed is also a rarity.

What I'm about to tell you may come as a surprise.  Some of you will refuse to accept it.  Some will continue to live in denial because, as they say, ignorance is bliss.  So without further ado, here it is...

It was bound to happen some time, but my mother definitely did not prepare me for this.  It was the girls last night before they were heading of to Bermuda for their trip, and they were determined to do something special New York style.  

Today I was determined to fill some gaps in the map of the places I have visited so far in New York.  There seemed to be a pocket (albeit a large pocket) from mid town to just into the east side through downtown that I kept visiting.   I was going to be on my own as the girls were heading off to go ice skating. And so I planned  off to tackle the east side from near the Manhattan bridge up to Harlem.  Needless to say things didn't go according to plan.

The day began with a whirl of cleaning and tidying in preparation for our guest, Tree - not just any Tree - the Tree!  Deanna's friend Catriona (Tree for short) was landing in NY to spend a few days before they both fly off to Bermuda to visit Alex for a week.  Ok, it's 5 days they are going for but that just didn't seem to work linguistically - could be the lack of sleep, could be a lack of brain, anyway - I digress (no surprises there).

Late one morning (Ok - it was 1 pm in the afternoon) whilst wandering past a Mexican restaurant, we decided on breakfast Tacos (It's a thing - trust me).   After being seated we were approached by a smiling young man.  He introduced himself, in a thick accent as Miguel our server, and quickly ascertained that we were not from around here (clearly he hadn't read my last post about being local gals).  From that point the charm offensive was on.  

We finally spent a day in the apartment - On Sunday, the furthest we went was to the basement to do laundry. Doesn't sound exciting does it?  But it is!!  It feels like we've finally made the change from traveller (even though we walk with cameras in our hands we will never be tourists) to local.  I've stopped complaining, about the lack of bins, about the scented parts of the subway, even about the grime.