Nomad Online

I’m just another customer. Sitting on a chair in Starbucks. Drinking my coffee.

I’ve just finished shopping for my son’s school lunches for the week. I am waiting for him to finish youth group.

It’s Sunday. We left early for church. I served at Sunday school teaching preschoolers that Jesus was a busy man. He healed the sick, preached to thousands of people, walked on water. But he was never too busy for kids like them.

We danced. Sang songs. Coloured in a sheet that said “Jesus loves you”.

At 6:15 pm I will meet my parents with my son for dinner. It’s at a local Thai restaurant that cooks up delicious pork ribs.

My father was a guest speaker at a conference for young Korean Australian entrepreneurs a couple of days ago and my mother came with him. They will spend one more day in Sydney with us before heading back to their home the next morning.

Speaking of family, I had a lovely phone call from my mother in law this afternoon. She was just checking in to see how we were going.

We’re ok I tell her. And we are. Sort of.

There is a calendar on our kitchen bench. I am starting to fill in all the days with appointments and events. It’s surprising how busy it can get very quickly.

I realise I am starting to fill my days with big and small moments while I wait for my husband to come home.

It’s been almost three weeks since he left for his job overseas. For those who are new to this blog, my husband is a journalist and he has been looking to work overseas for a while. So when the opportunity came up to join a large news service outside Australia for three months, he took it.

Three weeks… Only nine more weeks to go. I tell myself nine weeks doesn’t sound so long. I am hoping it will fly by.

I look up from my coffee and scan the room. There are a lot of people studying in here. I wonder if they’re waiting too. Stuffing days full of things to do so that time would pass faster.

I scroll through my Facebook feed. He had posted his first day out exploring. He bought our son a soft toy. And me, a desert rose. It’s a sand formation that looks like it is made out of petals. He must have been thinking of us.

The woman opposite me is busy on her phone too.

I sip my drink and wait for my son. I miss his father and it hurts a little. Like I’ve just fallen over and grazed my knee. But it’s not my knee, but somewhere inside my chest.

I wonder if I will get used to it.