How do you say goodbye to a city?
Do you give it a firm, lingering hug? Tell it you’ll visit all the time and that no one will ever replace it? Do you write it a love letter, or just brush it off insisting that it’s not you, it’s me?
I’m yet to decide on the goodbye I will give this vibrant city of Melbourne. I am going to miss it.
It hasn’t really sunk in yet, even though we’re sleeping surrounded by boxes and empty cupboards. Our treasured art stacked against the wall.
We’ve only been back in Melbourne a year but it’s always felt like home. It is home. Will it feel like home an hour down the freeway too? Only time will decide.
It is only an hour.
Next week, not only do I say goodbye to this city, but this house where our daughter was born. One day we will drive down this street, lingering for a little while to tell her the story of how she came into this world and the walls that witnessed it all.
But, it’s time to go. Time to be brave, time to embrace and let go. Time for a fresh start as a family. Where the streets are wider than cars, and backyards spacious enough for energetic toddlers. Where being close to endless bars and restaurants suddenly doesn’t matter as much anymore, even if it pains you to acknowledge.
It’s only an hour after all.
A new city will soon be ours. She’s much smaller but I’m sure she will hold her own. There are new friends to meet, future memories to make and a house to make a home. Family. Adventure.
This is what it’s all about. It doesn’t make the goodbye any easier though.
It’s only an hour, but this city will no longer be my own.