I am so grateful for home grown lemons in water.
The way they took the sun and turned it into potent electricity for taste buds,
mingling with water to nourish, hydrate, feed the skin and the organs and the blood.
I feel every drop, and with each mouthful I am so thankful,
that water springs from the tap effortlessly,
that I have clean glasses to drink from,
that my friend has a lemon tree growing in the backyard,
that I am here with her.
Maybe it isn’t perfect, but it is full of love, and
if that isn’t perfect,
then I don’t know what is.
I am so grateful for the sun,
how it has been shining on me on my daily walks or runs.
And the smell of the bush,
somehow so different here than at home,
like the rainforest, damp and
cool and
begging me to get lost among ferns and
eucalyptus.
I am so grateful for the seasons,
how autumn has exploded here,
how gold and bronze start filling the skyline where
it used to be green and
crisp blue sky.
I am so grateful for the oak trees,
so grateful for every leaf I crunch underfoot that
brings me back to my childhood home,
the treehouse in the backyard,
that tall blue fence,
the pink kitchen,
screaming Delta Goodrem with my cousin,
exploring the fairy land front yard for hours on end,
hiding behind bushes,
those brilliant purple flowers up the side track,
the giant magnolia tree and
how those cream petals would fall and
fill up the whole world.
Picking raspberries with mum,
getting a splinter and
having the attention,
undivided!,
of both parents.
Greek yoghurt with ice-cream topping when we’d run out of dessert,
never understanding how adults could possibly enjoy greek yoghurt.
How lucky I am to live in a place where an acorn on the ground can fill me with such joy and
homesickness.