Getting off the plane in Sydney was tough. I really had a hard time accepting that my adventure had to go on. Moving through customs reminded me that it was far too late to turn back now. If it weren’t for Jake escorting me onto the plane, or having a boy friend whom I missed so much it hurt waiting on the other side, I don’t think I would have made it.

Sydney welcomed Jake and I with open arms and hot sunny weather. You really can’t be depressed in 80 degrees and flip-flops. Seeing Ron again for the first time in almost a month wasn’t too bad either. (Ok, I will admit it, seeing Ron trumped being able to wear flip-flops….. but don’t mention that to my 12 pairs of sandals I just HAD to bring on this trip.)

I said my goodbyes to my brother, Jake headed to Manly and myself heading to Ron’s step brother’s home. Hugging Jake goodbye was like tearing off the Band-Aid really slowly. The last person who understood exactly how I felt was leaving me. I spent a whole 20 minutes convincing myself that I was the stronger older sister and that he was supposed to need me more than I needed him. I don’t know when our rolls reversed, perhaps it was some time during the flight when Jake gave me this, “don’t bite the flight attendants head off for not loaning you a pen look.” (For the record, he deserved decapitation, he really did.)

So there I was, back with Ron and his family struggling to figure out my next step. My grandma Tellkamp told me during our visit in California that the best thing to mend a broken heart was a child’s love. I was holding my cousin’s daughter Brynn at the time. I didn’t know if I really believed her, but I wasn’t going to argue. Grandma’s know best.

And then there I was, my first day back in Australia, battling jet lag; I got down on the floor and played with Ron’s nieces Stella and Charlie. Grandma was right, children’s love and innocence really does help  a hurting heart.

A little chalk on the face didn’t hurt either.