Last looks

Increasingly I seem to use this blog/newsletter as a sort of public diary. I've found it to be immensely helpful - if that's not your thing though then maybe skip this one.

I have lived in a lot of houses (or more often flats, or awkward houseshare situations) in my 31 years of life, and very few of them I've been sad to leave behind. As a kid my family tended to move every couple of years, so the only constant was my nana and poppa's house, which I said goodbye to last year when my nana went into care. That was a tough goodbye, and so was the one I made this evening.

Me, Josh and Robin (the cat) have just moved into a lovely three-bedroom house. It's about 10 minutes away from the two-bedroom flat we've spent the last three years in. There were times in the past year when I thought we might stay in that flat forever - it was comfortable, cosy, we had the best neighbours, and we loved the area. None of that really changed, but we started to feel like we needed a bit more room (particularly after adopting Robin), so we reluctantly started looking around.

Today we handed the keys back (to the lovely neighbours, who we're very glad are moving into our old flat) and I did one last walk around the place before saying the official goodbye. I spent some time sitting where the bed was, looking around at the bedroom walls. I spent a lot of time there, particularly over the last six months after being diagnosed with ME. That spot is home to a lot of memories from the past three years, both lovely and very sad. Robin hid under that bed her first night with us, and then climbed out to say hello at midnight. I recovered from my appendix surgery in that bed. It's where we slept off the jetlag after getting home from our wedding. It was that bed where we were woken up by the phone call from Josh's sister saying that his dad was dying, and we needed to get there as quickly as possible. It's from there that I saw the waxeyes flock to the tree outside to eat its flowers in the spring.

Inevitably, every home hosts our memories. This one was just particularly special to me. Though it was only three years, in many ways it feels like I grew up there. It's the last place that I lived where Josh and I still had all of our parents alive. I can't understate how the loss of a parent changes your perspective on your own life, and the responsibilities you have. Josh and I were quite different people when we moved into that flat to the ones we are now moving out; I am more sure of myself and how I want to live my life than I ever have been. Having a safe and stable home through tough times was a large part of that.

I will remember that flat for all of this; for the Matariki dinner we hosted there, the birthday parties, the movie nights, the pigeons we watched grow up on the neighbours' roof, the free concerts we could hear coming from Eden Park, photos on the stairs, friends helping us move in, friends helping us move out again, the three years of life lived within those walls.

As we left the flat, I took a last look and tried to hold it in my mind; a habit I turn to when I want to bottle the moment and the emotion I am feeling in it, to remember later. The image is already a little shaky, but it's this: nighttime. The outside light is on because we just walked past it. The big tree is overhanging the letterboxes. There's warm light coming from the downstairs neighbours' flat, and their cat is peering at us out of the window. I feel grateful.

As we pulled up to the new house afterwards, where we're a few days into unpacking, the lamp is on in our bedroom (note to self to close the curtains at night). Our beloved piles of stuff are visible through the living room window. Our cat, Robin, is waiting inside. I feel grateful for this too.

I know I'll have many of these last looks in my lifetime. Closing off chapters, saying goodbyes. This one feels that bit bigger because it comes so soon off the back of saying goodbye to my childhood home - I feel particularly unmoored, but I know it won't be long before I'm settled again.

Thanks Flat 2 - you were the best home I've ever made for myself (...so far).