We're in the process of moving and it's a pain in the arse. I moved around a lot for most of my life. I'd lived in two countries, oceans apart and went to several schools by the time I got to high school. It didn't affect me adversely. In my childish mind, it was a big adventure and I think it made me more resilient and adaptable to change. It also made me crave it. It put me into a pattern of not wanting to be stuck in a rut for too long and this translated into the desire to seek out change on many fronts, on a regular basis. I changed my hair colour often. I didn't commit to an employer until I was in my 30s.
I moved house a lot prior to getting married and having a family. Most of the time it wasn't by choice. Renting in Sydney in the late 90s and early 2000s meant regular rent hikes and evictions based on the whims of landlords and real estate agents. The older I got, the harder it felt. It became heart wrenching. Just as I'd settle into a new neighbourhood, unpack my boxes and make a home out of a place, regardless of the condition in which I'd found it, I'd be forced to move on and start again.
The process of hunting for a rental property in Sydney is the equivalent to self flagellation. I remember lining up with sometimes up to 60 other people to walk through a shit hole and know that it would cost more than half my income for the privilege of living there. Each time I got the golden nod from the high and mighties with my life in their hands, I counted myself fortunate and made the most of it. Looking back I have fond memories of each and every place I lived in. I lived all over Sydney, mostly alone and although temporary - each place was my home.
When my partner and I finally bought the property we have just sold, it was a milestone. We knew it would be our home for a long time to come and we've made many memories in this dwelling. We got married, had our children and established our family. The time finally came that we outgrew this place and so we embarked on our first experience of selling and buying a home.
The place sold itself. The market is beyond insane, particularly in the area we live in. Prices are extremely high and we got a great price when we sold and we made a profit. However there was going to be a catch. We were going to have to pay an exorbitant price for our new home too. We got lucky and found something affordable and suitable. Not huge, but accommodating and full of potential. Most importantly, we have committed to a small mortgage that won't tie us down for too long. Debt, whilst inevitable in most cases, is highly undesirable.
My privilege has not escaped me. Yes we've worked hard to get to where we are today, but we've had help. From our families, the colour of our skin, the society that buoys us. I've been thinking a lot as I pack up my family's life, about what it all means. Having all this stuff, being able to nestle it in bricks and mortar and know all five of us can rest our heads on our soft beds at night and feel protected and safe from the elements and the uncertainty of not having a place to call home.
People say home is where the heart is, but it's so much more than that. Home is connection to your kin and history. To the land you were born and raised in or the land you have chosen to start anew. Home is where you sleep, eat, shit, shower, rest, nest, laugh, shout, cry, worry and plan. Home is the space that is yours. That is only shared with those you choose to let in, those that make up your circle of kin.
How lucky we are to have a home. Because really it's all it is, just luck. Not worthiness, talent, a prize for winning at something. In this day and age, if you have a roof over your head, however hard you work to get it, you're lucky. Because some aren't so lucky. Sometimes circumstances, often imposed and always unjust, rob people of that dignity. And not only that. Some people aren't just robbed of a dwelling, but of a village, town, an entire country. Displaced through the greed and brutality of others who at all costs will protect their own sense of home, but at the cost of someone else's.
I'm not taking this move for granted. I'm using it to sharpen my awareness of my obligation to fight for the rights of others. To be aware of the plight of other families who don't get to have a roof over their heads. Who live in fear and insecurity. Who worry about the well being and the future of their babies and their children. Who don't have the comfort to pander to such self indulgent contemplation because they are too busy surviving.
This post was going to be a rant about moving and packing and throwing out shit. How dare I?
No comments:
Post a Comment