Modified Renga (7 minutes)
Prompt: How long do you need to spend in a place to understand it? When does a place become “home”?
Sometimes you know where your home is, even if you’ve only been there once. That was what it was like for me. My family lived in Perth for the majority of my childhood. Sixteen years in a city I never felt like I understood, even though I grew up there. Sure, the sights were familiar. I knew where everything was. It was a comfortable childhood of familiarity. But it never felt like home.
Just now, we’ve crossed the border between Victoria and New South Wales. Mum and dad have done it many times before. Not me. This is the first time I have been in New South Wales. The road trip to our new state has taken almost a week. We are tired and frustrated with one another. Something changed within me as we crossed the border, looking at the sign which reads “Welcome to New South Wales”. Somehow, I knew this was home. It would always be home to me. The state where my mother grew up, where my cousins and aunts and uncles all live. I’ve only met them twice, on trips to South Australia and the Northern Territory, just to meet up with them and spend a few days together.
The promise of new south wales was in front of me. This could be it. I wound down the window and let the air wash over me. There was a freshness in the air but a return too. My origins were here, in this very place. I was eager in the last part of the drive because I knew when we got out of the car I was going to start my life. My true life that I was meant to live in my home.
Everyone was exhausted by the time we arrive in our new home, we can’t be bothered talking to each other. But we all settle in to our new home easily. I awaited the first contact with my cousins, eager to begin an enjoyable period of my life. I regularly had that irritable notion of anxiety simply just trying to feel just ok in Perth. I never achieved any point of comfort but if I achieved any slight notion of it, I would just be ok. I hoped that someone or something here in New south wales could make me feel just something, just a purpose or feeling that could eradicate that hollow Perth atmosphere.
The rituals of a regular week began as the feeling of Perth remained, regardless of the environment. I was walking to school, wearing my new backpack like a trophy and my new uniform like amour, the key ingredients for a new me. The school appears before me slowly, increasing in size as I feel myself decreasing. Children walk with purpose to the gates, some alone but most with company. The epitome of bird-heaven. I remind myself to come to an understanding. I acknowledge, in my deepest despair, a can in front of me. I take a dive and roll through the grass to get closer. Always just getting closer, just getting down… knowing what’s around the corner - around the bend, excites me. I gloss over the crowd’s glistening body heat and surrender to the impulse to grab and tear it open. It’s made of aluminium and I can’t break through with my mouth. Eyes watch me, and they glaze. It’s from here that somebody squeals and says something I cannot hear. More bodies. I factor in that they appear to wander through at snails pace, and those snails I usually eat for breakfast. They’re not quick, nor do they pick up and leave when the going get’s rough like I do. It occurs to me that life’s a puzzle and to navigate, one must figure out a way to blur the lines. The lines. Am I defeated or do I crunch down on the challenge? Like I do so well, like I always do with haste - I scoop the can with my beak and creep over. They follow me immediately, and I slip into a panic. I keep going and remove from myself the grip of the heavy object, it’s too heavy to carry - across the whole way home. I’ll fly there. Let me go, I want to say. The objective was to get the best one, and I think I did my best… think.
The world looks way too big from this point of view, I can’t even see everything that I want to see, or that I could see to say the least. Maybe if I get a little bit higher I could see everything, maybe if I jump a little higher I can see what I want to see. The city skyline, I’m quite close if I try, I’m quite close if I jump from branch to branch, from the wood it feels safe, it feels like home.
Sometimes you know where your home is, even if you’ve only been there once. That was what it was like for me. My family lived in Perth for the majority of my childhood. Sixteen years in a city I never felt like I understood, even though I grew up there. Sure, the sights were familiar. I knew where everything was. It was a comfortable childhood of familiarity. But it never felt like home.
Just now, we’ve crossed the border between Victoria and New South Wales. Mum and dad have done it many times before. Not me. This is the first time I have been in New South Wales. The road trip to our new state has taken almost a week. We are tired and frustrated with one another. Something changed within me as we crossed the border, looking at the sign which reads “Welcome to New South Wales”. Somehow, I knew this was home. It would always be home to me. The state where my mother grew up, where my cousins and aunts and uncles all live. I’ve only met them twice, on trips to South Australia and the Northern Territory, just to meet up with them and spend a few days together.
The promise of new south wales was in front of me. This could be it. I wound down the window and let the air wash over me. There was a freshness in the air but a return too. My origins were here, in this very place. I was eager in the last part of the drive because I knew when we got out of the car I was going to start my life. My true life that I was meant to live in my home.
Everyone was exhausted by the time we arrive in our new home, we can’t be bothered talking to each other. But we all settle in to our new home easily. I awaited the first contact with my cousins, eager to begin an enjoyable period of my life. I regularly had that irritable notion of anxiety simply just trying to feel just ok in Perth. I never achieved any point of comfort but if I achieved any slight notion of it, I would just be ok. I hoped that someone or something here in New south wales could make me feel just something, just a purpose or feeling that could eradicate that hollow Perth atmosphere.
The rituals of a regular week began as the feeling of Perth remained, regardless of the environment. I was walking to school, wearing my new backpack like a trophy and my new uniform like amour, the key ingredients for a new me. The school appears before me slowly, increasing in size as I feel myself decreasing. Children walk with purpose to the gates, some alone but most with company. The epitome of bird-heaven. I remind myself to come to an understanding. I acknowledge, in my deepest despair, a can in front of me. I take a dive and roll through the grass to get closer. Always just getting closer, just getting down… knowing what’s around the corner - around the bend, excites me. I gloss over the crowd’s glistening body heat and surrender to the impulse to grab and tear it open. It’s made of aluminium and I can’t break through with my mouth. Eyes watch me, and they glaze. It’s from here that somebody squeals and says something I cannot hear. More bodies. I factor in that they appear to wander through at snails pace, and those snails I usually eat for breakfast. They’re not quick, nor do they pick up and leave when the going get’s rough like I do. It occurs to me that life’s a puzzle and to navigate, one must figure out a way to blur the lines. The lines. Am I defeated or do I crunch down on the challenge? Like I do so well, like I always do with haste - I scoop the can with my beak and creep over. They follow me immediately, and I slip into a panic. I keep going and remove from myself the grip of the heavy object, it’s too heavy to carry - across the whole way home. I’ll fly there. Let me go, I want to say. The objective was to get the best one, and I think I did my best… think.
The world looks way too big from this point of view, I can’t even see everything that I want to see, or that I could see to say the least. Maybe if I get a little bit higher I could see everything, maybe if I jump a little higher I can see what I want to see. The city skyline, I’m quite close if I try, I’m quite close if I jump from branch to branch, from the wood it feels safe, it feels like home.
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