Four months into 2017 and the not-so-new year has already seen its fair share of beginnings and ends, twists and turns. I’ve dealt with heartache, stepped into a gym for the first time (gasp), booked a trip to Europe, and watched friends and family embark on new journeys, leaving me to ponder what the future might bring for them and me. Thinking ahead has also encouraged me to reflect on what has already happened so far and how certain events have lead me to be where I am at this exact moment.
In March I left behind my beloved flat in Orakei which had been my home for six months. A week or so before moving day, I removed every personal detail that I had added to my room when I originally moved in. The built-in shelves that were filled with some of my favourite books, knick-knacks and travel souvenirs became a practical solution to storing boxes that contained the contents of my life. With each item I packed away, my room started looking less and less like mine, and exemplified how I felt about what was happening: strangely empty. I had taken the last room available when I moved in. I couldn't complain; it was my favourite one in the house, with peachy-pink wallpaper and an endless supply of sunlight streaming through the window. While I was in the process of decorating, I decided to string some fairy-lights above my bed (just like every other 20-something female). I kind of liked the idea of falling asleep with these teeny-tiny bulbs twinkling above my head; maybe some part of me hoped they would inspire me to dream. Whenever I looked up, it felt like I was gazing upon a sky full of stars. Returning to my room and unwinding after a long day became something to look forward to. For a while, some of my nights were spent curled up next to my then special someone after binging on Netflix and laughing to the point of exhaustion. Eventually, the extra space in my bed that was once filled became vacant. In sharp contrast, my room was engulfed by silence at night and I was left to mull over my thoughts until my eyes grew tired. This "me time" was something I came to value while I was flatting. Too often have I underestimated the power of having a moment that is mine and mine alone. When I had the house to myself, I could turn up my music as loud as I wanted and dance around like mad, or write and allow my thoughts to transpire on paper without disruption. I like socialising with friends as much as the next person, but I sure cherish those moments of solace to think, plan and dream, freely. There are a number of little things that I miss about my flat. I miss dangling my legs out of my window while sitting comfortably on the wide ledge reading a book, talking on the phone for hours with friends, or simply watching the tui's rustle around in the fruit trees. I miss our garish kitchen with the orange bench top that was often cluttered with dirty dishes and constantly being invaded by an oversized puppy scavenging for morsels. I miss seeing the view along Tamaki Drive on the drive home from a stressful day on a sunny afternoon. Most of all, I miss coming back to a home where I'm surrounded by friends and having a place that really feels like my own. In such a short space of time that house and the experience of flatting in its entirety facilitated the creation of countless memories. It was a place where I laughed with friends, sought sanctuary when I felt sad or overwhelmed and learnt all sorts of things that won't soon be forgotten. After all, it wasn't always easy living with three other people and a growing German Shepherd puppy while attempting to assume the role of a fully-capable, independent young adult. It's pretty remarkable how attached we become to the little things that to anyone else would otherwise be regarded as ordinary. That being said, it doesn’t make it much easier to say goodbye to them. No matter how much you’re able to prepare, endings, whatever the situation may be, can be daunting. Feelings of nostalgia creep in making you wish you could stop time, just so you can hold onto those moments for a bit longer. We then let go of what is familiar, what is comfortable, in order to delve into our next chapter, the details of which at that point in time are largely unknown. It's perfectly normal to feel nostalgic. In fact, I think it's something we should embrace when reflecting on the past, for it is the knowledge of our experiences that prepare us for our next venture. I’ve never thought of change negatively. I rarely find myself living in the past; I try to focus on what's current and imagine the possibilities that only the act of looking towards the future bring. How can we move ahead in life if we keep wishing we were in a different time and place that has already passed by? I feel confident that where I am now is where I'm meant to be, currently. Although I can't say that I know what's next with absolute certainty, I do trust that the decisions I've made, and the things that have happened so far have brought me here for a reason. With each day that passes, I'm slowly starting to see the bigger picture that is being constructed in the puzzle that is my life. Not knowing exactly what the next piece will reveal doesn't concern me; it only adds to the excitement and anticipation of what's to come.
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B is:A 26-year-old tea drinking writer of words trying to find her place in the world.
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