By Clare Rankine (’13)
It’s these cold July days that make me think of my first year in Melbourne. Experiencing new everything, new moments, new people, new winter.
It’s been a long day at uni, and I catch the 109 back to Res. The tram slides me out of the city and into the suburbs, to Kew, a place I’m beginning to know better, but still have time to explore.
I leave the tram and it rattles away. I walk up the street and into the secret side entrance past the daycare centre and behind the back of the church. I brush past winter flowers. It’s suddenly quiet and still, away from the rushing traffic, I feel safe, the promise of comfort is close. Walking underneath the shadow of a tree, I look up to see the day darkening and a hundred bats swooping silently, so quiet overhead. I had never seen bats before I moved to Melbourne, and their presence makes me remember my first night here all over again; the heat, the smell of summer, the goodbye to family, the tentative new conversations, the promise of possibility, hundreds of bats, swooping silently, so quiet.
I unlatch the gate and walk across the car park. I see a light in my window, my room-mate, Anna is home. I look forward to seeing her, her kindness and grace, hearing about her day. There are beams of light from other rooms, and I wave to people I know now. Smiling. It’s a home.
My room smells of coconut. It’s warm, so warm, Anna has put the heaters on. I take off my shoes and place my feet on the hot pipes. We talk and it’s nice and I know dinner will be soon.
I’m in a weird in-between. I miss my family and friends back home, but it’s different now. I experience new everything, new moments, new people, new life.