Coming home

thurschilbadgejpgAfter a week and a half of packing and more packing, and then moving and more moving, my son and I are out of the place that’s been our home for the last three years. I wish I could say I was emotional about it, but the only emotion I feel is relief.

Maybe that’s a side effect of packing a four-bedroom house on your own. The exhaustion leaves no room for anything else.

We’re temporarily staying at my parents’ place for the next month or so. They are out of the country, so it’s just my boy and I. He’s sleeping in what was my childhood bedroom. I’m in my sister’s old room (the latter was fully furnished, and I figured my son would adapt better if he had his own bedroom furniture).

This is the house I grew up in, in the suburb I grew up in.

We won’t be here for long, but it really felt like coming home.

I don’t think most adults learn their neighbourhoods the way a child does. Kids explore all the back alleys and parks during their romps; they know where the blackberry bushes grow over the fence to be plundered, or where the plum trees are. They know which path to avoid in spring when the magpies are swooping, exactly how the tree trunk at the local park can double as a rocketship, and where to find willow fronds to weave into headbands.

I think I’m going to miss this place when I move, possibly more even than the house I just sold. Don’t get me wrong. I loved that house. It was beautiful and spacious. But it was also the source of a lot of stress–my ex-housemate and I regularly joked that its extension had been built on a hellmouth.

As a result of all the packing and moving, I haven’t written in two weeks. I’m starting to feel extremely twitchy, especially as my WIP is at the point where I’m about to write the final confrontation. I was really looking forward to it, too. Of course, Murphy’s Law being what it is, I got sick halfway through the move, so I’ve had to hold off a few more days–at least until the fever subsided.

But you know what? When I get to write again, that’s going to feel like coming home too.

Click here to see this week’s other Thursday’s Children blog posts.

Advertisements

7 Comments on “Coming home”

  1. sugaropal says:

    Excellent point about children being more intimately familiar with their neighborhoods than the adults. I think they also see them very differently – as battlegrounds, sanctuaries, territories that have nothing to do with tax maps and so on. Nice post!

  2. I agree – kids do know the neighborhoods! Filly is forever showing us the different offerings around here πŸ™‚

  3. So true! Kids get out and explore and experience; us adults just don’t find all the hidden secrets like they do.
    Still, maybe you can make a point of it πŸ™‚ You’re going to find a perfect house soon and, when you do, I feel an exploration day is in order!

  4. Margit Sage says:

    Great post! I moved a few months ago and know what you mean. I wish I could experience my new neighborhood like a kid. I walk every day with my dog, but I see things through my adult eyes. I guess I should take that as a challenge… πŸ™‚


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s