It’s come to my attention (much later than anticipated) that my lease for the sharehouse I’m currently in is coming to an end. I’ve got about one week to figure out what the hell I’m doing. But regardless of logistics which I’m not too concerned about, moving in and out of places brings about a certain feeling of nostalgia.
I’ve only been in this house for six months, and trust me I am well and truly ready to leave. This doesn’t mean though that part of me won’t miss living here. A part of me will stay with this house as my first proper house out of home. Even with all the ups and many many downs, I wouldn’t change the people in the house for a second. Every argument, moment of laughter and every time I interact with these people I learn. Learn about them, about the world, about worldly culture and specific cultural differences. For anyone that knows me you’ll know the people I lived with. We had a range of countries and therefore cultures including: Persian-Iranian, Norwegian, South Korean, British, and the rest for namesake – Italian and Scottish.
Moving out can sometimes feel like moving on but for me that is not the case. I don’t want to be leaving these people behind. I need to leave the space but not the culture we’ve created. Sure I’ll come back and visit the people but being a guest in your own ‘home’ is a weird concept to me and because I’m probably not going to have a definitive home for a while longer, it will still be home to me. As home as I can get.
And then comes the debate of whether a person needs a home or whether we are nomadic by nature. It’s hard to tell because I’ve never really been on the road but I do know when I moved to Wollongong for uni and my parents sold the house and moved overseas, I wasn’t settled as well as I might have been knowing I had a home to go to. This also could have been misconstrued as me just missing them but who knows.
Ultimately, the packing has started. I’m excited to move. Excited for the future, but I can also say I will be sad to leave the house for sure. Sometimes I feel like I feel things on a different level to people. That’s not to say it’s a superior level, just a different scale all together. Perhaps I haven’t been granted permission to see others reactions but I know for me, I hold great meaning in firsts and lasts. I always have. Especially with places. I feel like people move out and they’re able to just get on with their life whereas I feel stuck in limbo sometimes with things like this. I need a lot of processing time to understand and be at peace with the fact that my life will never be like this again. Ever. Even if I moved back into a share house, even if I moved back into this share house, in my room. It will be different because as soon as you move away, the dynamic changes. And if I came back into that, I wouldn’t be a core person of the house, I’d be an extra, a visitor.
So it’s time for a new chapter, time to let Wollongong go. I’ve only stayed here a year and whilst I feel like I’ve done a lot, there are so many things I never got around to doing, I will definitely come back. Alas it is time for the 4hour commute day to end. For me to pick up my things, chuck them in my car and hope that when I get to Sydney I have somewhere to drop them. We will see how I go for that, will definitely give an update.