In just under two weeks, we’re getting on a plane. We’re saying goodbye and jetting off to Thailand for a bit and then on home (via long layovers in Tokyo and Los Angeles). I’ve gone through this all before. The goodbyes, the silent desperation to cling to anything that truly means “home”, the hastily planned lunches and dinners, the heaviness of last looks. But I hadn’t expected to have to endure it all again. Sure, I knew I would eventually return home for a bit, but I thought that I’d get out relatively unscathed. And I knew that Dale would accompany me on my next departing flight from Australia. But I was blindsided by the sadness of leaving again.

I didn’t exactly feel like I soared in my last nine months here since leaving the nest. That in itself was a wake up call for me. But just as I was standing back up, dusting myself off, and getting ready to walk out the door, I was invited further in. Acquaintances and sort-of friends suddenly became staples in my weekly routine. Girl time over healthy lunches (usually involving avocado in some form) happened. Conversations of shared hopes and dreams took place. Drinks were had and inside jokes were shared. I got close and now it hurts.

Above all else, my time in Australia has taught me the importance of community. Of not being alone. Of having that support system in place. One of my favorite movies, About a Boy, uses that exact premise. The main character, Will, was just floating along in life until it’s shaken up by a boy, Marcus, who needs him. Will’s life is never the same and he is the better for it. I always took my support system back home for granted. But now I don’t. I now have two communities. Two homes in two hemispheres. My life will never be fully, 100% in one place again. And I am the better for it, no matter how much it hurts.

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No, Shea, you’re just doing the dishes. Calm down.

I love just looking at it and moving my finger ever so slightly to see the sparkles gleaning from diamonds. I now absentmindedly spin it around with my thumb. It makes me smile to know that I get to wear it for the rest of my life. It’s my ring.

But it’s what the ring symbolizes that brings the most comfort to me. It means that I get to marry my very best friend. My closest companion. My adventure buddy. The man I’ve been in love with for longer than I can recall at this point. The one who, for whatever reason, told me years ago that he thought we were soul mates even though we were just friends on the opposite sides of the earth who had never met in real life.

I get to choose to marry him every day. I get to have a sleepover every night with my bestie. We get to find new ways to make each other laugh. We get to struggle through life in situations we’ve never been in before. We get to grow and dream and plan. We get to figure it out together.

I’d never been one to plan my dream wedding as a little girl. To my recollection, I’d never even daydreamed about it. No visions of the perfect wedding dress, venue, flowers, or cake ever crossed my mind. Wait, I take that back. When I was about 14 years old I saw a beautiful white cake on the cover of a magazine and I kept it in my memory. So yeah… I planned the food part of my wedding. Figures.

It wasn’t until I went through a wedding (through the motions, I should say) that I discovered what my dream wedding would be. It would not be a stiff, painfully impersonal traditional wedding with a guest list so long that I would question whether or not they were related or wedding crashers. And there wouldn’t be balloons that my mom sneakily ordered for a little more decoration. No endless combination of family portraits and smiling so much my cheeks are too tired to talk. And, most importantly, there would be so much food that I would get to eat, damnit.

Which brings me to this wedding. The one that will take place the second week of August in the end of this Australian winter. The small one being held in our living room that will probably be decked out in fairy lights and candles. The guests will be close family and friends and some of them will watch via Skype from thousands of miles away in the middle of the night. We are foregoing a wedding cake in favor of our favorite donuts. I’m making the food. There will be lots of it. Ample amounts so that even I can eat this time around.

But most importantly, there will be a man waiting for me as I walk down the aisle. There will be vows from our hearts and two rings. A man that I will live the rest of my life with. My whole world will be right there in that moment. And I cannot wait.

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