Wow. Flying in to Mildura always gives me pit-of-the-stomach sentimentality. I love it.
The patchwork of horticulture in amongst sand dunes, scrub and lake beds with the snaking Murray river as the defining feature never fails to enthrall me as I look out the window of the Dash 8 aeroplane.
I picked out my parents’ property, its layout is easy to spot from the air. The roof of Dad’s new shed glints like a shiny new coin, outshining the house and older sheds.
The current abundance of water is fascinating. In one place, shallow water pools at the bottom of the sandhills glisten as we fly over, the sun catching at different angles to give a shimmer that feels as though it needs to be accompanied by one of those rainmaker stick sound effects.
Not paling in comparison is the feeling I get when flying over Mildura. A combination of homely nostalgia, of safety, of easiness. I won’t be flying in to Mildura for a while now, so I soak up this feeling as it washes over me.