Eulogy to home.

I arrived in Melbourne at around 7pm on the 24th of August, 2002. I didn’t know anyone, I hadn’t a clue where I was or how to get anywhere. It took me three days to work out there were train stations underground in the city. I had no job, no money, one suitcase and eyes wide open. I will be leaving Melbourne at around 5pm on the 24th of February, 2010. This makes my time in Melbourne about two hours shy of exactly seven and a half years, to the day.

In that time, I have lived in seven houses (Prahran (twice), Oakleigh, Melbourne City, St Kilda, Caulfield and finally Brunswick), had had nine jobs (I had to count them on my fingers just now) and two motorcycles. I now walk down the street and remember things. Strange, funny, relaxed, uncomfortable, precious things – I have memories. Lots of memories.

On Tuesday night we went to see a show by Daniel Kitson called “66a Church Road - A Lament Made of Memories and Kept in Suitcases”. For those of you who don’t know of this man, he is probably one of the most captivating personalities I’ve ever encountered. And I would love to play “computer football” with him someday :)

I’m no reviewer, and I don’t pretend to be. Google knows about this show anyway. Suffice to say Daniel describes a terrible breakup he had after a six year relationship – with his flat. He spoke about the memories created in and around the place, in a style which is hard to describe. He spoke about reminiscence and nostalgia – the actual meanings of these, and how these skew his view, ever so slightly, to change it from what the flat actually is, to what it means to him.

Daniel Kitson is an arsehole. And I love him for it. Late on Tuesday night I was thinking about the places around me, what they mean to me, and that I will be saying “good-bye”.

I’ve made this place home. This city – it’s streets – the weather, with it’s multiple personality disorder – the crappy railway crossing on Moreland Rd – The cafes down Degraves and Lygon’s food – the view over the side of the West Gate Bridge while riding in morning peak – there’s too many little things… This home we’ve made in Brunswick. We’ve been here a touch over three years, and good-byes will be said to this flat in about five and a half weeks.

By Wednesday I’d had the realisation I will need to say goodbye to a lot of people, some of whom I like – a few of whom I love. I don’t want to think about this any more right now, so I won’t be writing more. I may do in the future, just not now.

I’d not thought about these things until Tuesday night – saying goodbye to my home. Now don’t get me wrong, these goodbyes are not a bad thing, though there may be a necessary sadness. I must go, I have to go, I must say “good-bye” and leave this place. While I have plenty of choice about where I live and what I do, there is no other choice I can seriously consider. Nor do I want to.

I was speaking with one of the best people on the planet last night, discussing this. I’m going to leave here, and move to a place I know nothing about. I will make new memories, and I will make it my home – if I choose to. I’m looking forward to this, and I’m very much excited about the possibilities and experiences waiting for me to simply accept. I’m not exactly sure what my new home will look like, or feel like, but I know it will feel like home.

I’m sure I’ll be back in Melbourne one day, though I have no plans to do this. It may be for a holiday or it may be permanent, but I’ll be back.

Someday.