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Writer's pictureTracey Lee

Just been home



Home:  home, or domicile, is a space used as a permanent or semi-permanent residence for one or more human occupants

But surely it is so much more.


I had a lovely, if brief, trip to Tasmania. It is my home state. I lived there for twenty-six years and then I went away for what was meant to be a year. It turned out to be a lot longer than twelve months. But still I say I’m going home to Tassie whenever I cross the Strait and return to a place where not everything is so familiar anymore. Places have closed, new ones opened, buildings reinvent the landscape, and people have gone. Of course the island has moved on without me, the people I love have made and are making lives that I can now only share through phone calls, photos, the occasional email and the stalker’s delight (Meta aka Facebook).  And the less familiar it is, the more I long to spend time reacquainting myself with the place.




But not everything is changed. In Launceston the first visits are to Gourlays sweet shop in the Quadrant Mall, Petrarch Books, City Park, the Gorge and the suburb of Youngtown where I had most of my childhood. In Hobart it is Mures fish and chips, the Elizabeth Street Pier, Mt. Wellington, the Tasman Bridge, Sandy Bay, Botanical Gardens, MONA and Fullers’ Bookshop. It’s a bit of a ritual each time to visit my favourite places. It’s a re-emersion into the memories of my past. The places never fail to disappoint and the suitcase is usually stretched to contain the new acquired books, mementos and esmereldas (a coconut and pink toffee concoction from Gourlays…sometimes called jockey caps).


More than the touchstone places it is the catch ups with people that matter the most. My brother and nephew, my cousin and her husband and my wonderful Uncle Col who is still as sharp as he ever was in his 90s. Every time I see him I am so reminded of my father. Great friends from Hobart to the north-west made time to have dinner with us. Just so we could have the review conversation (what’s happening, where have you been, what are the kids doing, etc). And the waltz down memory lane (remember when you threw a golf club at me or when you said you could down a pint of wine and then you found out you couldn’t. Or the time you were sent home for mocking the military because you wore khaki or encouraged us to get punk haircuts and go new romantic! Endless stories.


As I grew up I had a consistent longing to get away from home. I wanted to find something else other than what was familiar. There was nothing wrong with home, I wasn’t running away but I had this hankering for the untried and distant. I love the life I’ve made and all the places I’ve lived. Each one of them has been home and more than a domicile in which I resided. That said when I catch sight of the northern coastline of Tassie when flying in the emotion is palpable. It’s the light, the colour, the white sands of the east coast, the mountains, recognisable names of towns and suburbs (there is a constant need to correct the big island born on how to pronounce some places-Launceston, Breadalbane, Bicheno, Strahan, Sorrel, Recherche Bay). It is always my homecoming.

 


Four states and territories, and about ten residences later I have satisfied the wandering and have settled on the coast of NSW. There are similarities between it and Tasmania except for the slightly warmer winters. It is home now. But I was also home when I lived in each of the other places. We made friends, had busy lives, careers, houses were curated to reflect who we were and gardens were grown. We went on holidays and came back always glad to be home.


 And when you have lived in many places it makes a person wonder about the hometown/state and review why it remains so embedded in one’s sense of self, one’s heart. It is surely not just about what remains familiar to us, nor just about the memories or even the people.


In my meanderings on this topic I think I’ve concluded that it comes down to reconnecting with yourself. An opportunity to remember the dreams you had before you entered the business of real life. When I’m home in Tassie I can see the world that shaped me and the dreams I had. It’s like walking through a museum dedicated to my own life, my beginnings, the falls and rises. And not just from my own perspective as I have archived the memories. Going home helps me see who I was through the eyes of those who knew me first. For all my reinventing I am my essential self when I get home. I walked through my childhood, teenage years and early adulthood during this trip. Those years play before me like a short film. Sounds and smells, colour and sensations, views and sights flick the switches in the repository of memories about my own life. It’s autobiographical, it’s fiction and fact woven into my connection with this home.


It is unlikely that I’ll move again. I’m settled by the sea in my small regional town. I long for no other place to call home. This does not mean that I do not get nostalgic for the homes of my past. I do. So this is why I revisit them. To remind myself of how I became who I am.

                                               

                                                There is a town in north Ontario

                                                With dream comfort memory to spare

                                                And in my mind

                                                I still need a place to go

                                                All my changes were there

                                                                                            Helpless  Neil Young 1970


NB: When I sing this song the first line is always in north Tasmania

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2 Comments


coonanjm1
Jul 25

Brilliant Tracey ! We are all reminded of the places of our early life! In my case not beautiful Tasmania but a dusty small town on the Darling Downs

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jillimart
Jul 27
Replying to

Hello Trace, there is a beautiful piece of writing by Kenneth Graham within Wind in the Willows where mole smells something familiar and realises he is indeed near his own home (that he had abandoned months before to go on an adventure). I will find the passage for you…. It is so evocative

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