Dreams

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

(Dreams by Langston Hughes)

23 years ago I came to Aus for a gap year. After I returned to the UK I always dreamt of coming back to live in what some call the lucky country. Now, after moving here in 2013, I’m an Aussie citizen.

When I was diagnosed in 2017 I was asked if I would go back to the UK. I had no inclination whatsoever. I knew that this is where I wanted to be treated, heal and recover or, if it all went tits up, die.

Fortunately I’ve been able to access some of the best health-care in the world, just up the road from where I live (literally: I caught the bus to chemo & rads, and walked back home). I’m acutely aware of the multiplicities of privilege that have facilitated this.

I never thought I’d live so close to the harbour, let alone right on it. As I’ve written before, it’s become intrinsic to my healing. From morning walks around the foreshore, to watching waves through the window when I couldn’t get offa the sofa.

This is my 3rd week kayaking on it. I went further than last week and paddled ‘round to Berrys Bay, which is in the opposite direction to the Opera House and Harbour Bridge money shot. It took my breathe away. I cried at the wonder and simple joy of it, then got drenched by a mis-calculated wave. Bloody loved it!

Strewth, I’m#luckyluckylucky.