The Longing for Home

For the first time in a long time, I miss Christmas Island.

When I was there, I never really appreciated it. The true beauty of it all. The people, the culture, the surrounding environment, the warm tropical air and the smell of the damp jungle when the rains of the wet season have well and truly taken hold. I close my eyes and I see the big, black frigates soar overhead, and I hear the rustling of the leaf-liter as the first of the red migrants emerge and begin their dash to the sea.

I smell the incense burn as my bare feet slide across the white cool tiles of the temple at South Point, being there you have the feeling you are a part of something more. The sense of culture engulfs me as prayer rings out from the mosque in the evenings. To be able to celebrate Christmas, Ramadan and Chinese New Year all in the one year for a brief period in time fools me into believing that the world is a unified place.

How I would love to go back there, even for just a week; as a scientist, as an adult, and as a more appreciative person. Just to be able to sit and watch the fascinating wildlife, and walk through the rain forest, and stand under that waterfall at The Dales and feel that ice cool water on my skin. To snorkel in the ever-warm waters, and fish off the end of the jetty, and immerse myself in the wonderful history of that tiny, dog-shaped speck in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

I don't know what has brought about this reminiscence. I think maybe the ever-bright city lights are starting to take their toll. The thick air and loud noises and repetitive lifestyle are eating at me. How I would love to escape, back to that little Island, and lose myself in the warm tropical air. I think it's human nature, and nature in general, this yearning for peace, and familiarity, after a long time away. The longing for home.