home.
December 9.
Nine days into Summer I have finally arrived back in Whitmore Bay. I wait all year to come back and spend time in my favourite place in the entire world. A place where time feels slower. Where the world seems brighter. Where it feels like literally anything is possible.
The rest of the year I spend my time in the grips of suburbia where I spend my weekdays in a local school as an Education Support Aide. It is the best job I could ever ask for. At the same time, it can suck the life and the energy out of me some days. It can be utterly exhausting. Don't get me wrong, it is 100% worth it. Knowing I can make a difference, even small ones, in the lives of future generations is insanely rewarding. The good days outweigh the bad ones which is all that matters to me.
I leave Sydney around 9:30 AM, getting on a flight that lasts not much longer than an hour. A 20-seat plane brings me to Mount Long Regional Airport. Which is about 80 minutes away from my final destination. The small aircraft doesn't have the smoothest landing upon landing on the tarmac. Luckily for me, I am not one to be bothered by the aspect of turbulence or a slightly bumpy landing. However it seems like a couple of the other passengers are the kind to not deal with bumpiness all that well. Looking towards a stranger across the row from me, who looks a tad queasy, I give them a little smile before telling them they can finally breathe easy now that the plane is on the ground. They laugh softly and comment on how turbulence makes them feel anxious.
It takes barely any time to disembark. That's the beauty of smaller planes: no long lines and less wait times! It takes no time at all to collect my baggage: One large baby pink coloured suitcase that is way heavier than it looks and is packed to the brim. One leather weekender bag that is tan and white with a checkered triangle pattern. And lastly, a carry-on bag that has things like my purse, my phone, a book, and my old iPad that is seriously on its last leg. Once all my baggage is in my possession I head to the 30-car parking lot, quickly finding my beloved KIA that stays within the Whitmore area. One of my friends, Calum Hawthorne, who lives in the bay for around 6 months each year will drive it up to the airport the day before my arrival. Sure, he could pick me up and drive me into town but I much prefer to do a solo drive. I always have. Driving to my summer home is similar to a form of therapy for me. It brings me peace.
Whitmore Bay is a cute coastal town situated on the northeast coast of Victoria, not all that far from the New South Wales border; only about 135km away. A good chunk of the residents in Whitmore Bay come from wealthy families. The houses and businesses are often passed down through multiple generations. The town comes off as being full of charm to most visitors. Picturesque, even. While the township has it modern elements, there are parts of it that feel old-fashioned. There are no fast food joints or big grocery stores. Pretty much every business operating within Whitmore is small to medium in size, run by locals who want to keep the town as is. Locals who refuse to let big corporations build their stores within the confines of the town. Whitmore Bay would not be Whitmore Bay without all its family-owned businesses. The residents like it that way. So do I.
There's a massive sense of community here. Everyone here is more than happy to lend a hand to whoever needs it: time of day does not matter. Residents get what it means to be there for each other. They understand that a town is nothing without its local community. It's not uncommon for the more Type A personalities to organise regular fundraisers. Whether it's a raffle to fund school-based programs. A donation drive to help a local who is doing it tough. Or a fun fair to obtain enough funds to keep a small business open. Locals are extremely happy to chip in. Most of them have more money than they know what to do with, so the least they can do is help others who are a little less fortunate.
The drive into the town I love is an utterly serene drive. As I drive down the Princes Highway time feels like it flies by. Maybe because I've done said drive again and again throughout the years and it now feels like muscle memory. Blasting through the car speakers is all my favourite music. A mix of most genres (even broadway and movie soundtracks) play as I sing at the top of my lungs not caring if anyone driving the opposite way judges me for my over the top performances.
A peaceful feeling washes over me as I finally turn down a narrow road and see a navy blue sign with Whitmore Bay Welcomes You on it. I would be lying if i said that the drive wasn't one of my favourite things about visiting every year. Driving from the mountains to the coast is something I will never take for granted. The sights are underrated. It's scenic. I feel sad for anyone who hasn't experienced the stunning views that I do.
Around 15 minutes after passing the welcome sign I pull into the driveway of what I lovingly like to call Florence House. Chosen because of my middle name, which is also Florence. My full name being Sadie Florence Langley. How elegant. Florence House is a greyish-white in colour. Exterior tiles covering the brick facade. Lots of big windows with black matte trimmings. A front porch that wraps partially around the left side. The few steps that lead up to the porch have beautiful blue hydrangeas on each side of the mini staircase. I soon bring the car to a stop deciding to park it in front of a double garage that looks similar to the house from a stylistic viewpoint. Turning the engine off I put the vehicle into park, take the keys out of the ignition and get out.
"I'm home." I sigh happily, looking at the house which is exactly how I left it.
