On Saturday it was my Birthday. I spent the weekend down South with some of my most favourite people. In the world. The whole world.
On Friday I drove Mumma and I there. The sounds of Angus Stone leaked from the stereo. We went straight to Milkwood Bakery for pies that we had been waiting weeks for. Then we pitched a tent, with the help of a friendly man who saw that we were struggling. It was an enormous tent, to be fair.
Later in the afternoon we went swimming in the deep blue sea and perused surrounding suburbs. When the moon was on the rise I was in the midst of building a fire on the beach but then it started to rain. I was so disappointed. My fire was going to be brilliant. I swear!
On my big day Milkwood Bakery beckoned us back for breakfast. So we sat on stools by the window and watched passers by while we ate. With our bellies full we were on the road again. This time to Nowra to meet our friend Fiona. She showed us places that she thought I would love. And I did. So much so.
In the afternoon sun Susan the van took Brad, Fiona, Ma, Reed, Noah, Abel and I to Currarong for a picnic by the sea. Pa and Trinie came too. We stayed for hours. Talking and laughing and eating.
Along with Sunday morning came sunshine. Lots of it. We went to church and met with friendly faces. When the three hours had passed Mum and I went to a blue house at the bottom of a hill. I saw Heagney family photographs and I sang songs upon their request.
It was a perfect afternoon and I was so thankful.
I am in love with this place. One day I will call it home.
