many, many cousins.
There was a time when I didn’t appreciate what I had in Tassie and ventured to Queensland. After three months I’d found a great job and was living in a beautiful old Queenslander
with two of my closest friends, but something was missing.
It was time to go home.
Coming home was joyfull, people say it is often and I know it to be true for me, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
I was back to the familiarity of my family home, a home where I had so much history. Helping Mum and Dad renovate, learning to cook, learning to drive, handing tools to my Dad
when he was working on cars. We spent so much time together, Mum and Dad taught me so much and believed in my ability to do whatever I wanted. I was expected to be respectful, but at the same time, allowed to be my own person with my own opinions.
Last week was One Girl’s response to guest blogger, Russell Kelly’s post – Going home: 6 signs my heart was telling me to come home to Hobart. This week is the Other Girl’s response.
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