Ozlilly's musings...

I loved that my husband and sons came to the airport to see me off. I loved that my youngest son also appreciates my love for Australia.

I could ask him how his plans are going about completing his studies in Austria and then returning Down Under. I’m quite happy now in our new flat in Vienna, but Australia is Australia. It’s where I grew up. It’s where my Mum still lives. It’s where my brothers have their families. Now I’m returning for the wedding of my mother’s only grand-daughter. I’m the only daughter, she’s the only granddaughter. I’ll represent the family from Austria. The three students can’t leave university at this time. The married son is taking care of his wife and his job. Then there’s the digital nomad cum diving guide. I’ll see him when he returns to Melbourne in the middle of next week. He called me just before I left home.
Sure with five sons who all traveled the world with the Vienna Boys Choir for four years each, you can imagine I’m quite used to the airport. But even in Melbourne I enjoyed going there to see people off and pick people up. It started when I took my first trip myself at 19 years old. At that time (1973) it was not nearly as common as it is today. I was the first in my circle of friends to travel the world. Though it really started in 1972 when we sent our parents to Europe for the first time. Mum went to visit her parents who had moved to Munich when she came to Australia in 1951.
Now, I’m going to visit my Mum in Melbourne, ‘cause I moved to Austria where my husband comes from and my Mum is in the house that Dad built in Australia.