Good times

photo of reddish-orange autumn leaves in trees, taken from the footpath on a street

Once upon a time
we only marched on fall leaves—
may that time return.


I moved. Again.

After living in Canberra for nearly three years, I’ve now relocated to Adelaide. I’ve packed up my entire life, said good bye to some of my best friends, and flown almost two hours to the west of Australia.

photo of the view as seen from the window seat of a plane. picture shows the landscape of a city with a river and the setting sun in the distant horizon

It’s time to start again.

This time, however—for the first time in my life— it doesn’t feel like I’m running away. All of my previous relocations had an air of hope, of expectation, of the self-made assurance that I was leaving for someplace infinitely better. Moving meant going to better places.

It’s different this time, though. I love Canberra. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time in the capital. Every day was exciting. As mundane as a regular Tuesday afternoon was, I still had everything I loved—my writing group, sea shanties, poetry nights, gawking at the galas, shaking my head at cockatoos, and just being in nature day after day. Hundreds of gumtrees hundreds of years old lived in my backyard. The bush capital had become my home and there was no other place I’d have rather been.

Naturally, I had to leave.

Leaving a place I didn’t want to leave is one of the toughest things I’ve done in my life. But I’d become far too attached. That’s mostly a good thing, of course, but not when the attachment takes hold and breeds the fear of moving away‚ the fear of being uncomfortable and being in the unfamiliar. I was afraid that I might grow afraid to leave Canberra.

I had to push myself to explore new avenues. Adelaide came to mind. Hot, humid, close to the desert, and driest capital city in the country. It’s miles smaller than Sydney or Melbourne or Brisbane, but that’s what I wanted—it’s the closest you can get to Canberra’s small-town vibes. Except of course, the population is still more than twice the capital’s. What’s life if you’re not putting yourself in hotspots? Here I am, doing that. Literally.

Canberra friends who lived and studied and worked in Adelaide were surprised to hear of my decision to move Adelaide. It’s a place most people moved away from, not to. In my friends’ eyes, I was hurtling headfirst into an unknown that probably has a stone cold floor.

Maybe it does. But I’ve got thick skin and a hard hat.

I hope to land on my feet, and if my feet get cold, I’ll happily admit and move on to another place. I always keep that option open. But never experiencing this city is never an option. I might be stupid to pack my entire life into a 45 litre hiking backpack and fly into a city I’d never been to before. But there’s no one right way to find yourself in a new city—there’s only what you know and what you think might work for you.

This works for me.


close up photo of a yellow dandelion with a slightly blurred green valley background

The ordinary
becomes extraordinary
under a spotlight

Big brother

closeup photo of a weed, with the hairs visible

When someone’s watching,
hair on the back of your neck
stands up, as does grass

Nightly procession

photo of the full moon with a silhouette of trees

Holding up the moon
earth parades its better half
slicing through the dark