12 years ago today we got the keys to our first home.
god was it exciting. having all our new furniture delivered. our families and friends sharing in the joy of our new home.
deciding where to put OUR furniture, in OUR house. which drawer should be for cutlery. what shelf the vegimite should live on, making big plans for a double garage and beautiful gardens.
it was so quiet and private. i didn't even have to close curtains. i remember waking up the next morning, looking over the rails from the hall into the kitchen and thinking how i used to dream of living in a house like this when i was growing up. and now i was.
i remember, a few months later, driving home from work and thinking "OMG i'm driving home to MY own house!"
just before i moved out, i had read a blog. the writer had had to leave her home, under very different circumstances, but, like me, not by her choice. she was warned to "not look back" when she drove out of her driveway. i locked the doors two days before settlement, with every intention of going back for my good byes the next night.
during the day, i decided i didn't want to look back either, i didn't want to see it empty, waiting for someone else to fill it with laughter and love. so i never went back, never said my good byes, never stood in my kitchen, on my verandah or in my back yard knowing that it was for the last time.
and it was the best thing i could have done.
i'm a sentimental person. deeply sentimental, but looking back on that house puts a weight on my shoulders. it makes me feel filthy and neglected. i feel free and alive to be out of that prison. to no longer be under the weight of those black beams, to no longer be covered in dust and cobwebs (figuratively and literally speaking).
i'll always have fond memories. but i'm thankful to not live there anymore. (which i never imagined i would say). i'm thankful to have set the wheels in motion for a better life for me. 12 years is too long to be stuck somewhere.
my grand father, dindan passed away on this day nearly 20 years ago.
i miss you dindan, i miss your songs and games, the way you always smelt of saw dust and wore overalls with a pencil in the top pocket, i miss our walks with ziggy and how you sopped up your gravy with a piece of bread after every meal. i thank you from the bottom of my heart for the opportunity to live in your home when i had no other choices. love you always, your lully lump, jandy xx