I recently wrote about a difficult decision ahead. Usually in these instances I rely on my instinct – indeed this year has been nothing if not a series of difficult decisions – but on this occasion it remained soundless and silent. There were vast and various pros to returning back to Australia, as per my original plan. It would offer me the stability of being back in my flat; the place I call home and somewhere I’ve not spent nearly enough time in this year; I’d be back with my friends; all of whom have shown loyalty and love beyond measure during what has been a turbulent year. My flight is booked and paid for; my boyfriend will be there; summer is fast approaching, and Sydney will be in its finest glory. It would undoubtedly have been the easy option; and perhaps the biggest factor to consider was thus; the sooner I’m back in Australia, the sooner I can apply for my partner visa; the sooner I’m able to work.

Returning to England on the other hand – especially after having just recently spent two weeks there; having already put myself through the agony of goodbyes – brings with it a lot of benefits, but equally a number of disadvantages. While the chance to spend two months with friends and family  – an almost unfathomable amount of time to an expat living down under; to actually have quality time with friends instead of hasty catch ups; to have endless days ahead with my family instead of rushed weekends – is a priceless opportunity that may not come around again. And while it will allow me to launch my series of Literary City Guides and create some amazing content for this blog, it will also involve the type of upheaval I was hoping to avoid moving forward. The saying goodbye to my boyfriend; knowing I’ll not see him for two months; the added expense of flights, the further travelling involved. It will mean more gut wrenching goodbyes at the end of my two month stint; and while there is the potential of earning money while I’m in England; so too is there the chance of failing to do so. It will mean I’ll have lived in four countries in one year – and, perhaps worst of all it will feel like I’ve fallen at the final hurdle of making Sydney my home. I’m so close to applying for my partner visa; for being able to work once more, and yet the three month wait feel so very very far.

I was waiting for a sign, a whisper of which way to sway; which path to choose. An inkling or inclination of what I should do. I’d been keeping an eye on flights home, and when I logged on this morning there was one seat left. And so I booked it.

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