Today we began the drive home after two weeks in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales. It’s been a beautiful holiday—sunny days, cool nights, slow mornings, and long walks with the dog along beaches where she could run free. She was wonderful company, curling up contentedly each night after her seaside adventures.
We stayed in Fingal Head, a quiet village nestled near the mouth of the Tweed River. It’s the kind of place where time still feels like it moves a little slower. The sun sets over the water, the local café knows your name by day three, and there’s a kind of softness in the air that makes you breathe differently.
What made today notable wasn’t just the scenery—though passing through Cabarita Beach, Hastings Point, and Pottsville was a feast for the eyes. It was the realisation of how much has changed. These towns, once sleepy and remote, are now vital communities. People are moving in from Sydney and Melbourne, trading high mortgages and long commutes for coastal calm and the flexibility of remote work. With Coolangatta Airport just thirty minutes away, the impossible now feels possible.
But it’s more than just practicalities. For us, the drive stirred up memories. We lived in the Northern Rivers when we were first married. Back then, it was truly remote. The roads were rougher, the shops fewer, the phone lines patchy at best. We were young and ready for anything. Coming back now, we’re amazed—not just at the region’s development, but at the distance between then and now. The towns have grown, and so have we.
That’s what made today stand out: the quiet intersection of past and present. A drive through familiar places made strange by time. A recognition that what once felt far away is now closer than ever, not just geographically, but emotionally too.
So yes, something notable happened today. We came home—by way of where it all began.
The Afterword 
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