On 29th December, it was time to say goodbye to Brisbane.
After a Christmas full of pool swims, roast dinner, Dreamworld, Christmas lights and a proper Queensland summer, we packed ourselves up once again and headed for the airport. That strange post-Christmas travel feeling had arrived: bags a little fuller than before, children still carrying new toys, and everyone slightly unsure what day of the week it was.
Our Qantas flight from Brisbane to Sydney was booked for late afternoon, which gave the day that slightly awkward “waiting to leave” rhythm. Not enough time to do anything big, but plenty of time to make sure every charger, comfort toy and random Christmas item had found its way into the bags.
At the airport, the girls handled it like seasoned travellers by this point. Digital boarding passes loaded, bags checked, snacks located, and then the usual airport waiting game. After more than a year of moving through airports, stations, hotels, apartments and housesits, it still amazes me how normal this has become for them.
The flight itself was short and easy compared with some of the monster travel days we’ve had. Brisbane slipped away below us, all green suburbs and summer haze, and before long Sydney started appearing through the window.
And what an arrival.
As we came in, we got a brilliant view over Sydney Harbour, with the Harbour Bridge sitting below us like something from a postcard. After months of travelling, seeing that view from the plane felt properly special. It was one of those little moments where everyone leans towards the window and goes quiet for a second.
Brisbane had given us a very different kind of Christmas: hot weather, swimming pools, palm trees, fairy lights, theme parks and a roast dinner somehow pulled together in the middle of it all. It was strange, sunny, chaotic and lovely.
But now it was time for the next chapter.
Sydney was waiting.