The Other Side of The Mountains

The Other Side of The Mountains

"distance makes the heart grow fonder"

Written and Published by Lydia Rees 

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Hi. My name is Lydia. I’m 21. Living alone. Far from home. 

So you’re probably asking ( or maybe not ), how I came to find my self in this situation. Alone, far from home. It’s nothing special really, but I thought I would share my story anyways. As always my hunnies, sit down, relax, and read on...

In 2017, I accepted a job that would inevitably change my life. New to the workforce, a few weeks of unemployment and my life a mess, this was one thing that seemed responsible, getting a job. A front office guest service agent position at Quest Apartments Hotel in which I remained faithful to for 2 years. Two long ass years of working like a dog, day in, day out. Early shifts, late shifts, double shifts, back to back shifts.All of it. I missed birthdays, weddings, funerals and family events to commit to this job. I became the job. My employer had sold the franchise and left us broken hearten. After two years of seeing no growth and no appreciation, I decided to venture out and find another place of employment which will fill my desire to grow and learn. After two long days of applying to any and every admin positions, an old employer reached out to me and told me she had a position available at a new property, soon to be refurbished, re-established and re- branded. Perfect. The only issue was, it was 3 hours away from home. 

You see, I was never like those other kids who could part ways with their family all in the name of a job. Where ever my family was, that’s where I was. 20 years of living in the same household, sharing laughter, tears, our fair share of arguments, and a better share of car meets. They were my home, no matter how many times we moved houses or how many times we fought, we could never part ways, ever. Never in a million years did I think I would see the day I would be living away from them. And yet, I sit here on the porch of my apartment, looking out to an empty drive way, watching the traffic pass by, people who are on their way to see their families. 

It was always known that my brothers would be the first to move out, to stray from my parents nest. Coming from a Samoan family with a strong cultural background, it’s expected that the female would stay and care for her parents, the last to leave. Moving into my own place was and is the biggest eye opener to have entered my life, and trust me when I say, I have seen some major eye openers.

After an amazing 21st birthday, and an even more amazing family holiday, it wasn't long until I found myself in my room, packing my belongings, thinking about what I was leaving behind. Folding my clothes, I could hear my mum laughing in the living room watching another show on netflix. My other brothers watching glee in his bedroom. My youngest brothers listening to OneFour songs. The break of dawn was with us and little by little we loaded up the car of my things and drove away from Sydney, through the mountains, to arrive to my long awaited destination. We arrived at 8.30am in the morning, the air was so crisp, the atmosphere was cold but so beautiful. Cold enough to make the tip of my nose twitch but countered by the soft sun rays that peeped through the trees in the park.

Fast forward a month. I live in a hotel room. And not any hotel room, but a hotel room at my place of employment. Mornings and nights connected seeing as my work place was literally downstairs. So I looked forward to moving into my own place, because some part of be believed that I felt really bored and lonely because I literally lived where I worked. There was no "line" to distinguish the difference. 

Each day I get up at 8am to the sound of my alarm, and not the sound of my mum's yelling voice telling me it’s already 12 noon. I shower without the water turning cold because one of my brothers is not there, having a shower in the second bathroom at the same time. I brush my teeth and comb my hair with ease, because I don’t have my siblings using my tooth brush and throwing it across the Pacific Ocean or putting my hair brush in their bag to take to work or school. I get dressed, make my way to work, do my long hours and then make my way home. I get home when the sun has already set, park my car, waddle to my entrance, open up my door and am greeted with silence. A whole lot of silence. My parents arent there to greet me with a typical "Malo le galue". I close my curtains, heat up some microwave food, clean what I need to and then in bed by 7pm. 

Most nights, I would just lay on my lounge, wondering what my family is doing, wondering what my parents are doing, refraining from video calling them because I don’t want to disturb. Other nights, I’m on video call with my best friends, mostly just doing our own thing, browsing social media, cooking, cleaning but it’s a nice feeling to know that someone else is “there”. I yell at myself if I forget to take out the trash or do my dishes. I fall asleep to the sound of tv commercials in the back ground rather than my brother playing ufc on the ps4 and wake up the next morning to do it all again. 

You see, just like anyone, I was eager. Eager to move out of home and on the other side of the mountains. Where no one (other than my staff) knows my name. I walk the streets on my days off and see no familiar faces, no need to avoid people I don’t want to talk to, no dodging church people out in public. All these things that I used to hate, I low key pray for. I watch the digital world thrive and move on without me and so I use social media to create this fascinating life that most days, isn’t so fascinating. I have enough food to host a party for a week, enough supplies to make 100 people comfortable, enough water and electricity to accommodate to guests. But my parents were right, there is no use having all these things if there is no one there to share it with.

When I know my weekend off is coming, I feel nothing but excitement and happiness. Because in a few days, I get to go home, to my loud family, to my crazy best friends, to streets that I am familiar with, to faces I am familiar of, to hear the sweet sounds of church music on Sunday's. All things that I took for granted, all things that didn't seem so significant, suddenly were. Going home isn't just a visit but its almost like a debif to the heart. A beat for my pulse to follow along to. Its my family encouragement that gives me enough strength to come back to Bathurst and doing it all again. This is just a journey that I chose to embark on. I am paying the price of making my way to the top, and usually I am okay with that.

So if you’re reading this. Embrace. Love. Appreciate. All the things that never seemed too spontaneous in your life. All the yelling and screaming that goes on in your house hold. The nagging of your parents. All the familiar faces you get to pass on a daily basis. And mostly, the luxury of getting to go home and seeing the ones who matter the most. 

I remember hearing a quote, "distance makes the heart grow fonder". I dont know how long I will be here. I dont know what the future holds, but  I am incredibly grateful to experience this drastic change. 

Love from the other side of the mountains, 

Lydia