Dust redder than blood

As I jumped from the cab to open the gate, a cloud of dust arose from where I stepped. The in-famous dust that I had always heard about but never thought could be so vibrant.

I traipsed to the gate, unhinging the chain and swinging it away from me. I looked around into the looming darkness trying to establish some sort of resemblance to home. But all I could see were shapes and shadows which I believe to be snakes and other creatures of the Australian Outback. Swinging the gate shut, I hop back into the car and off we speed. Round corners and up hills to come to the brow of the hill over looking the homestead and workshop.

This is it I thought. The place my journey has brought me to. After 15 hours of travelling the outback from the Kimberly's to the heart of the Pilbara, I have made it.

The weeks fly by when you are having fun or learning the way of life out here. You may not realise until two weeks later that you needed to ring home for some occasion.
Home, that distant place that you compare everything you see and do to. Whether it is the heat or the wait for supplies or the lack of rugged hills touching the sky in every direction.
Out here, there are few hills. The station's name-sake hill looms at you from the distance. Always a constant point to guide you to your new home.

For weeks after, I scrubbed and scrubbed my feet and hands to remove the stain of red ochre. But now, I miss that stain like I miss the thought and act of travelling. The constant cloud that surrounded your feet every where you travel. It gets into your body and never leaves. No matter where I go, it comes with me. The memories, the feelings, the experiences. It is with you every step of the way until you return. Where it greets you like an old friend and wraps you in its blanket. No matter where you go, you will want it there.

So to it I return. And as I rise over that brow again, with the peak to my right. I look through the gloom of dusk at the homestead. From here, nothing matters and I embrace all that there is in this life. I may have only been gone a short while, but it was long enough to be away from the dust that runs thicker in my body than blood.
As I stand there, I ask myself how did a job advert in a newspaper lead to this? I may have been ready to run home, but now, home is where my feet take me. For I will always have the red dust with me.