In one single year, I travelled. By car, by bus, plane and on foot.
I lived. In Albury, in a swag, out of a suitcase, in the jungle, in a hippy commune, in Ireland, France, England, Adelaide, Queensland, Papua New Guinea, and among villages where no one spoke my language.
I touched Flowers I’ve never seen before, mud, grass, hands, stone, bullets and hand grenades, feathers and water straight from the tops of mountains.
I saw buildings older than my country, mountains so high I couldn’t see the summit, feet that have walked thousands of kilometres barefoot with skin so hard the sharpest rocks couldn’t break it, I saw people for who they really are, I saw sick children and felt so powerless, I saw smiles like I’ve never seen before, I saw tears of happiness, sadness and laughter. I saw spirits crushed and people who get back up and keep on going. I saw people learn something new and knew it was because of me, I saw thousands of butterflies chase me, I saw the sunrise and set on both sides of the equator, in the jungle and at 30,000 feet.
I breathed in: dust, smoke, sweat, mud, the smell of rain, fog and the occasional bug.
I felt: tress, solitude, at peace, at home when I was thousands of kilometres away from home. I felt restless, excitement, a deep longing, numb, but never regret.
I saw a darkness to people they usually hide. I saw when it’s still just not enough. I saw all I set out to do, achieved.
I’m no one special, I’m not doing anything that anyone else couldn’t do. But maybe that’s it. Perhaps that’s the whole point. Take an ordinary girl, and have her do extraordinary things and see what happens. So buckle in, tighten bra straps, remove the falsies because you’re in for a hell of a ride. In this blog, you’ll read about the highs and lows of flowers, the industry, life, death, wellbeing and mateship- and we’re keeping it real.
And I’m the mother effing Flower Girl.