That blows me away because this is just one of the many blogs I wrote on over the years. I tended to have a new blog at any new stage of life and I think most of them don’t exist anymore but I’ve been writing online for eleven years. My ex-husband was the one who convinced me to start and I’ll always be grateful for that, although he probably regretted it a lot, given what transpired.
Next week I go up to Broome to do a 14 day Gibb River trip. The last time I guided there I was newly single, bruised and vunerable, and it was a hard rite of passage. But I loved that job so much, maybe because I fell in love whilst doing it, and the memories of that incredibly fufilling period in my life have had a rose tinted glow ever since.
My husband is coming on this trip and, as a Canadian, I expect him to appreciate the red rugged beauty as much as I appreciated the cool snowy vistas of his homeland. My company gives an incredible family discount and we’ve decided that he will come on at least one trip a year with me.
It’s not really for togetherness: I’ve told him that I will have no spare time for him at all but I’m not sure if he appreciates the reality of that statement. To me, he just has to be another passenger and our time together will mostly consist of us sharing the same tent, in a routine that prioritizes sleep over chat, interaction or companionship. I’ll get some benefit out of it, though, because he will help out a lot.
This trip is about him seeing different parts of Australia and taking advantage of my job benefits. I hope he loves the Kimberley as much as I do but it doesn’t really matter. I am going home to a place I’ve known since I was five years old, a place where I’ve been the happiest in my life and I am so looking forward to it.