15 July, 2020
As I passed through Nowra, I felt a strong and sudden sense of overwhelm wash over my body. I was overwhelmed with the sense that my first day of great escape was coming to an end. Overwhelmed with the anxiety of spending a whole evening alone with my thoughts in an empty house. Overwhelmed, probably, with the beginnings of tiredness and a little loneliness.
I thought of the trips I had made to Nowra, years ago now, to visit my great-grandmother when she still lived in the nursing home.
And I was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire for connection, family connection.
So as I neared the turn-off for Jervis Bay, the road which would take me to my destination, I ignored it and drove onward.
I drove until I reached Milton, the birthplace of my grandfather.
And when I got there, I searched for the highest point of the village, and I looked out over this:
I stood there on the hill overlooking the sunset-kissed fields and gazed at the light dancing along the grass and trees which rolled below, and I was happy.
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