I love my apartment. I love my street and I love my suburb. It's my safe place, my happy place and my home. I know I'll look back on this apartment in years to come with a beautiful sense of achievement. My first little apartment. I am so proud of furnishing the place entirely for free, and how it just all seems to fit. I love all the little noises that I seem to know so well now. I can tell which neighbour is coming home, I know which door makes what noise as it swings a little bit in the breeze from the open balcony door. I love coming home and having a place for everything that is mine, or my roomies, and knowing that it is all our responsibility. Like real life grown ups.
Tonight I got home from my little brother's 5th birthday dinner to an empty apartment. I stripped off my scarf and jacket and hung them in their respectful homes, kicked off my thongs and took off my jeans. I walked into the kitchen and I grabbed my favourite glass and filled it with chilled water from my water jug that was in my fridge. I flicked on the TV and curled up on the couch with my QANTAS blanket and watched my favourite TV show. I felt so comfortable, so safe and homely. Just me in my space.
Home is where the heart is and this is where my heart resides.
|Tram in Booth Street, Annandale. 1955|