A fond farewell to a place called Home

I've been meaning to write this for a good while now, not quite sure why it's taken me this long.

My birthday was a little strange for me this year. Not in the sense that my age affected me or anything like that. In fact although I joke that I'm 21 for the past 8 years, as I know I am 29 and I don't look anything like it. In fact, I love the fact that I am 30 next year.

It was strange for me as my Mum handed back to the keys to a home that I lived in for 21 years. Almost to the day. That home holds many memories for me, most of which were great. I remember going to have a look at the place and liking it, and realising that after a time in mine and my sisters' lives which was just difficult. I'm not sure how sis remembers things, but for a while it was not plain sailing.

That house to me symbolises a struggle to get basic things for us to live, but at the same time relief as I felt my Mum relax and become her happy self again. We shared a room for a few weeks and that was one of my fondest memories of the flat. It is a symbol of growing up, emancipation from a turbulent childhoot before we moved in as well as fond memories of many celebrations and laughter. If you came to my home you would know about the Happy Birthday banner that was up for nine years without a break or the Laura/kangaroo picture on her door which makes me smile now as that's the sort of crazy vibe we had in that place.

Sharing a room with my sister for a couple years until Mum had enough of my tantrums and fights with sis and separated us.

I did shed a tear when I was there for the last time, and I did have to be ruthless with leaving but I will always treasure those bricks and mortar forever. For three women, and for a time a small boy it was our home and symbolised love and comfort.