A few days ago, my friend Sam posted this essay about his impending move away from Adelaide. He’s moving to Sydney (which means I’ll see more of him — hurrah!) sometime in February.
Although it’s about different places, the essay quite aptly describes my own struggle to figure out where to call home. I’ve lived in Sydney now for as long as I lived in Melbourne. In between the two, I lived in Canberra for a few short months. Growing up, I called Forbes, a small town in Central West New South Wales, home.
In a way, all of these places are still home for me. It’s like they contain different versions of me — almost as if, visiting, I might run into myself. And in a way I miss all of these places. Or maybe I just miss those versions of me. Nostalgia is a funny thing.
When it comes time for me to bid Sydney farewell, I’m not sure how I’ll feel about home.
avocado and lemon 
I feel the same. I was born in Canberra, lived in NZ, Melbourne for eight years, and now Sydney. I think each of these places is a little bit home for me, in different ways, according to the person I was during the stage of my life when I lived there. I’ve been in Sydney one year now, and it’s my current home, but I often wonder how the concept of home and feelings around it will change when I inevitably move on.
It’s a funny thing, isn’t it, having many ‘homes’? A large part of me really likes it, but it can get confusing sometimes.
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