Home.
It's a pretty broad concept, but a very specific one, depending on the context. In fact, one could broadly and yet with extreme accuracy describe Australia to be our collective home.
I drawn to the more intimate context of home in this post however, for as I was walking home from a night out with friends, I was confronted by the idea as I strode through the cold summer winds. I believe this city now to be my home.
Not in a geographical sense, I should make that clear from the outset. This place has been the place of my residence for seven long years, but tonight, for the first time since I moved here, I finally felt a kinship with the street and sounds of this city. I felt a connection. An important link being finally forged.
This city is my home. These streets, my home. I care what happens here, and I care what other people think of this place.
It's nice to feel a sense of kinship and belonging, and I think this bond will hold strong until I feel the need to migrate to the coast in years to come.
I still feel the call of the sea, deep within my blood, but for now, the crisp, calm current of the Murrumbidgee is enough for me.
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.
-Harriet Beecher Stowe
Phoenix
