Dear Perth,

Exactly one year ago today, we loaded that wonderful workhorse Norma with all our belongings that weren't in Allied Pickfords land, and, somewhat tearfully in my case, headed towards Kalgoorlie.
It was early enough that the roads were clear, and the pictures from our last lunch at Clancy's at City Beach were still fresh in my mind.
It was also all still new and unreal enough, that the concept of leaving hadn't properly sunk in.
It was shitty saying goodbye to everyone, that eye-burning, throat lodging feeling of an ending... but we all very bravely said "we can visit".

There followed six of the most scenic and beautiful days of my life. Jamie and I shared the driving and writing of the "captain's log"; we enjoyed home made banana bread and fresh coffee, crouched in rain swept truck stops in the desolation of the Nullarbor. How I love that space.

When we passed the "Welcome to South Australia" sign, I cried like an idiot. Without any concrete sorrow to pin the tears to, just chalking up another goodbye in an already lengthy list.

For a long time after arriving in Melbourne, in this familiar yet immensely strange big city, I have missed you Perth like I didn't think possible. I broke down at hearing Winton interviewed, I still read the West (oh god!), and I yearned for any glimpse of coastline or bush that would remind me of you.

There is very little space here, and far too many people crowded into built up streets and narrow houses, not to mention smelly trams and trains. And even now (and I suspect forever), when I go to Dan Murphy's, I linger by the bottles of Shiraz or Cab Sauv that are from the West. The romance of that frontier has not grown old or worn, remaining a steady refrain of love.

Slowly, I am growing into this new home. Here, I relish the man-made, and man-thought. Sometimes, when, from the 31st floor I look out towards the Dandenong ranges, and see the clouds scudding and the thin wet wintery sunshine drool down over the streets of Carlton, I feel a warmth for Melbourne. Not yet love, but no longer indifference.

Here, the people take centre stage. The vast and colourful medley of strangers in our neighbourhood, the friendly, the scary, the hospitable and generous strangers who populate Brunswick and Coburg with colour and life.

We are so 'in the city' here, that it's easy to forget that Melbourne too is a coastal city. That here, whilst not facing west, one can still have the continent at one's back, and be grounded.

Dear Melbourne,

Be patient with me.

This is not a new relationship - though it sometimes feels that way. More like a relationship that we began in high school, and now we're together again, sometimes reminiscing about the things we remember of our youth, and sometimes proudly showing off all that is new, and sustainable and great.

It's a growing process and here, now, after a year, I can freely admit to loving some of your bits. Perhaps this is best described as an adult relationship after some years together - we know each other's faults, accept them, and celebrate the positives with respect and restraint.

...