Australia dreamin'.

Dear Mallory,

I love your dream. I’ve actually been thinking about it for the past 24 hours because I love it so much. You would be so great running a hotel, especially as the Event Planner/Coordinator. And how perfect would it be to keep some space in the castle for you and your family? Space for dogs to roam and boys to climb trees and maybe a patio with twinkle lights + a large oak table for feasts with friends… Wait. Can I attend one of those feasts? Because you know I’ll be visiting. I will also be sending you care packages with the American treats you’ll miss [it’s inevitable. I didn't know I had a love for Cheez-Its until I arrived in Sydney and craved their crisp, cheesy goodness on the reg].

What do I dream about? So much. Babies and pursuing a career as an artist and Aaron fulfilling his dream of attending culinary school and running a pit bull rescue and owning a fleet of tiny houses placed throughout the world and not worrying about money and gathering everyone I love into one space to share laughter and love and memories. For the past few years, though, I’ve been dreaming a pretty big dream. A dream of selling belongings and packing a couple bags and moving. Moving so far away. Because if you’re going to dream, you’re going to dream big, right? 

I want to move back to Australia. This time, though, I want to take Aaron and settle our little family into a bungalow beside Bondi Beach or Coogee Beach or Curl Curl or Palm Beach. Basically, I want to raise little surfers. I want to be able to go to the grocery store and find Tim Tams, no problem. I want to rely on the super clean, super functional, super safe public transportation that New South Wales offers. I want to have friends in The Bush and The Outback. I don’t really care what we do for a living over there, I just want to live there. I love Australia. And I know Aaron would love it, too. [Keep in mind I never made it to Melbourne, which is why I'm referencing Sydney, NSW exclusively.]

Some of my reason for wanting to move to Australia is political and a little too dreamy, but also due in part to my time over there; it was so precious. I fell in love with the culture and the history and the politics and the art and the rich social life of Australians. I enjoy the way Australia pulls its identity from Asian cultures and Aboriginal cultures and the English and various European cultures. 

I just love it and I want to move back. I want to move back so hard. In fact, as much as I also dream about moving back to Michigan, I feel a total and deep despair when I compare Michigan and Australia. Because there's no contest, it's Australia every time. If we had to choose between the two, we'd be out of here in a heartbeat. I actually worry that if Aaron and I decided to vacation in Australia and New Zealand [as we plan to before we die], we would find a reason to stay. 

We do not move for another month. And I started packing yesterday.

And I know you know this, but maybe it's all of the moving that we've been doing for the military, but I feel this weird push and pull. I want to go home. I want to be close to family for once in my life. But I'm also finding that I like pursuing dreams. We have one life. While we can continue to make decisions with other people in mind, it's never going to make us happy. Our expectations are high, our families have high expectations, and our friends' expectations are all over the place. So while I want to settle down in the familiar for once in my freaking life, it's not going to be familiar when we move back. Things have changed, friends are considering their own dreams, my parents have goals they'd like to see through in this lifetime, and my siblings have already moved away, whether physically or mentally. And we've changed. We've changed more than even we realize. And we have to think of ourselves. Plus, who wouldn't want to have a free place to vacation in Australia? You'd have to be an idiot to turn down that dream.

Hurley has never lived in the same place for longer than a year ever. He hates moving.

Drink. Drink so many times.

What other dreams do you have? Would your hotel be open year round? Would you keep a house in the US somewhere? How would you decorate? What sort of food would Jon serve? And can Aaron and Jon go to culinary school together? I mean, how rad would that be. We'd actually be neighbors for once in our lives.

Unable to focus and stop dreaming, your distracted friend,

Amy