Home, I liked to be here when I could..

This photo is change, this photo is my change. A very dear old friend took this photo for me this week. This was my home and I think a piece of my heart will forever be buried within its dwelling. Surely it must be, my fathers final resting place lies only a couple of kilometres up the road from it.

I lived in this house from the age of five until the age of twenty two. Well, from eighteen on I was here and there with work and life, escaping the brutal reality that aging and changing throws in your face, escaping the brutal change that cancer throws in your face. 

I never wanted to leave this house but I was unable to effect change at that stage. I was on a path and I inherently knew, at that stage, the person I was needed to discover and experience and grow. Staying there would not have allowed that. Looking back now, at the town this house is in, I probably would have eventually grown because the town grew and changed. Maybe my self discovery would have been quicker and it's easier for me to claim it would have taken longer, who knows... 

This house has changed, it was bought by someone who only had development in mind but was blocked by a heritage listing. Instead of honouring that they let the house rot, and everyone looked the other way. Now all that stands is the original part of the house, where our bedrooms were. Lounge, kitchen, bathroom, laundry and toilet are gone. Fences are gone, beautiful gumtrees, rose bushes, lavender bushes, camellia trees, plum trees, crabapple tree, nectarine tree (that never bore fruit), lemon tree (my fathers pride), grape vines, sheds, dog run. Carefully laid slate rocks, lovingly sourced volcanic rockery, pampus grass that my dog slept under, angelica bush that my father marvelled would never die, hand made barbecue, herb garden built from railway sleepers (that only existed as such a week before the dog decided it was the place to be and my soft touch dad looked the other way) and it's matching sleeper bench seat, gone. Amazing door my father made from hand. Gone. Two of the best dogs in the world are buried there, three amazing cats too. All gone. The memories are in my head, thousands of them, and it's 'just a place'. But still, it hurts to see this is all that is left of the place that I cherished and always will.