Fourteen Years

Fourteen years ago I left New Zealand.

Two suitcases, a spot on Pete and Zoe’s couch and savings (9.5 days of cashed out annual leave) were all I had. Melbourne. I’d never been here before but I thought I’d give it a go. My first year was a blur. Some of it was hard. Some of it was harder.

I’m from Wellington, which sits right on a fault line.

Earthquakes. Those early years felt the same way - not the quakes, but the silence after. You know the aftershocks are coming. You just don’t know when. You learn to fight through it anyway. Primary school training, memory of previous quakes and a touch of common sense get you through.

I’m in my late thirties now. The ground still shifts but I’m steadfast when it happens. There are still unexpected aftershocks but I’m better at dealing with them. It’s not perfect but I’m starting to build foundations that might just stand the test of time.

A mantra from those early days is back: if it doesn’t work out, it has to work out.

To the next fourteen.