So in a couple of weeks I'll move out of my wonderful Richmond home for good.
And while, when I'm elbow-deep in clothes to be donated to the Red Cross, I swear I'll never move house again, a part of me feels a pull to here. I don't think I'm done just yet.
It has been an incredible place to live. I'm so luckily that, by sheer dumb luck, when I made the move back to Melbourne 2 years ago I landed in what I think is the best location possible. I'm staggering distance from both the Corner Hotel and the MCG. I've got the restaurants and cafes of Swan Street on my doorstep. But most of all, its the people who live in Richmond that are just the best. I love that I can go to the supermarket in my gym gear, because everyone else is. And not the trendy Upside stuff either - I'm talking sweaty footy shorts and old O-week t-shirts. It's my hood.
It's grungy and industrial, but its welcoming and open to all. It's footy in Winter, cricket in Summer, tennis in January and laps of the tan any day you like. Maybe its not super chic, but it's eternally Melbourne.
It's time to move out. To move on. And while it simultaneously pains and excites me to give up my apartment, the simple fact is its time for me to sacrifice my space in pursuit of a deepened relationship, a true partnership.
I'm a total extrovert. But the inevitable effect of that extroversion is that at critical moments, mostly points of stress, I have to reverse it and have solitude. Rest and refresh in alone time before going back into the world. I don't know how it looks to share that alone time. Maybe it's the ultimate act of intimacy, or maybe it's a disaster.
There's only one way to find out.