I love it and hate it

I have an uneasy relationship with travel, which is a strange thing to say when I spend so much time planning trips.

As I wait at airports to fly home, a low mood invariably presses down on me.

It is hard to define why I feel that way. It isn’t as simple as being sad the holiday is over.

When the familiar gloom settled over me at Hobart Airport, I didn’t yearn to be back on the ship. I was eager to be home, in my own bed, in my normal routine, hugging my dogs and children and cooking familiar food for dinner.

Yet, at the same time, heading back to the real world and returning to work was the last thing I wanted to do.

I’ve been back at work for a week now and the malaise has mainly lifted. Life has returned to its usual rhythm.

The weekend was pretty lazy.

It kicked off with Mandarin Southside cocktails and modern Asian food with friends at a pretty place in Mona Vale on called Suki.

I caught the bus there and back home again, as DD and I both had early starts the next morning.

Mine involved a beach walk and mushroom bruschetta with a gorgeous view at Long Reef for a friend’s birthday on Saturday morning, followed by grocery shopping, walking the dogs and cooking ma po dofu for the eldest for dinner.

Sunday was a slower one, featuring a swim and BBQ dinner with the youngest.

In the next few weeks the eldest will follow the youngest in moving out of home. I am trying to make the most of time with the kids while I can.

Soon it will be just me and the dogs rattling around the three-bedroom apartment together, as I contemplate what my future holds.

What’s next for me as an empty nester?

For now it’s business as usual. Well, business will be slightly unusual today because my nephew’s stepmum has become my interim CEO.

How random is that? She popped into the office on Thursday and we laughed about the smallness of the world.

I was in charge of putting together her bio for the corporate website and it was humbling to read about her education and career path. She’s achieved so much already and strives to do even more,

I feel exhausted just thinking about it. I want to do less, not more.

I turn 57 in March, which happened way too fast. That is proper middle-aged, staring down the barrel of retirement aged.

Conversations with friends these days often turn to when we’ll retire and how excited we are about the prospect. It’s pretty surreal when the memories of leaving high school still feel so fresh.

Back then I was hungry for a newspaper cadetship and dreamed about being editor of Dolly magazine.

I got the newspaper cadetship and roles at magazines in Australia and Singapore followed, along with a brief stint working remotely in New York. My career dreams were fulfilled before I turned 35 and it’s been a bit of a muddle along since then.

These days I’m in corporate communications and I can write a media release with my eyes shut … quite literally, because my fingers know the keys by heart.

I don’t seek promotions or glory … though it would be quite nice to win something at the Annual Report Awards …

I’m not sure what I want to achieve next. I don’t have any goals other than travel destinations.

I wonder why I feel so sad on return journeys?

As DD often says, people are very bad at predicting what will make them happy.

Song of the day: Sheryl Crowe “If it makes you happy”