I have two homes over 3,500km apart. Sometimes it feels like I’ve got one foot in each and my heart is stretched across the country.


But the worlds that surround my two lives, here and there, are starkly different, even if the day-to-day looks much the same.

And I’m feeling the pull of both. Just as friendships and routine are starting to settle and cement here, over there life is changing and I don’t want to miss the tectonic shifts coming lest I fall through the cracks. 

Moving back there means leaving blossoming friendships here, but staying here may leave my deeper roots untended. No matter where I end up, something, or someone, will be missing. 

So I’ve learnt to be a little bit homesick most of the time. 

Homesick, but not for a house or a street or a town. Homesick for the tug of salty waves as I float over their crest.



Homesick for driving past sunny fields of glowing canola with an enormous eucalypt cropping out the middle. Homesick for the turning of autumn leaves and the blooming of cherry blossoms. 

I’m homesick for the comforting presence of mountains on the horizon and the feeling of being nestled between them.



Homesick for winding along narrow country roads, the deep, dark blue of the Pacific Ocean, and the unmistakable trill of a Whip bird.

I’m homesick for the cosy comfort of being too cold to get out of bed in the morning and the sting of a steaming shower that fogs up the bathroom mirror. 

But I know as soon as I’m back there, I’ll be homesick for the radiating heat. 



Homesick for the whistling of kites and the screeching of Bush Stone-curlews and the squeak squeak squeak of geckos. I’ll be homesick for the burning glow of the watery horizon every evening and the towering silhouettes of palms, each finger on every frond outlined against a gradient sky. 

I’ll be homesick for the constant chatter about crocs and the comparing of weekend camping plans and the mutual understanding that no one can escape sweat. 

I’ll be homesick for the bustle of the foreshore every evening and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be homesick for the relentless straight of the Stuart Highway. 

I guess constant homesickness is the price you pay for having more than one place to call home.



Amy currently lives on Larrakia land in Darwin but grew up on Gundungurra country south of Sydney.