I've moved flat once a year, every year, since I was 17 with only one exception. Each move took me further away from my folks; first across town and then to Palmerston North. My first out of home flat was a boarding experience that opened my fragile little mind to the wider world; I went from living with my very christian parents to shacking up with a prostitute/taxi driver and her boyfriend who broke people's legs on behalf of a local white supremacist gang, presumably who weren't being repaid on time for services rendered. Good times!
I guess one of the most harrowing things about the break up with Annah, other than the direct emotional snap, was the loss of a home. Stuff got divided, things that carried memories and meaning and history. Suddenly I was travelling light so I could get down to Wellington with minimum fuss. And then there was Brisbane, which meant chucking out more stuff and paring life down to the barest of bare necessities, which then got stashed at my folks place.
So here I am now, taking stock of life and chilling out for a while, content to be single for a time and give myself some room. I have few physical anchors that give me a sense of grounding, of connection... but I guess the main thing I really draw strength from is my group of friends. I don't get to see all my closest friends as often as I'd like these days, but when I do get to, there's always a sense of being reinforced, if that makes sense. Being around the people I love is always like coming home.
No comments:
Post a Comment