Going Home

I can no longer call the house my parents live in, home. They're gone. In fact I haven't called it home for a while. Not since they moved from the house I spent my early years in, on the farm just out of Te Anau. Even then, I divided my growing up space with Enwood Hostel in Invercargill. Not that Enwood was much of a home, too institutional. Today I walk round empty Fir Close, a shell empty of people and belongings. So, what makes a house a home? People, personal belongings, no matter how small and insignificant....photographs, nick nacks, a bulging kitchen, junky garage, clothes strewn bedroom. The paraphenalia of active occupation. Te ahi kā, the burning fire in Te Ao Māori.

Leaving this property closes the book on me as a daughter. As inevitable as human mortality. We don't get to go backwards. I'm ready, relieved to have this job finished. Wondering about the future of buying a house with Nic. It's in the lap of the gods. But I wish I could fast forward and it could just have happened. Houses are so personal. Judging by property prices we'll only be able to afford a flat, hopefully not brick because brick houses have always depressed me. They feel boxier and claustrophobic. 

Maxine brews me a coffee, I pick some Granny Smiths then get in to car for the oh so familiar drive to  Christchurch. My new home in Strowan. Sharyn is entertaining and it's good to come back to a warm house and food. Te ahi kā. 

I'm straight into house finishing stuff as Mark, the plasterer calls, and he and his wife arrive on Saturday morning to smooth out the plaster dribbles between the coving and the pelmet. He's kind enough not to charge so I ask what beer he drinks. Saturday night is Greg Flynn's birthday party at his earthquake rebuild house, and shed. Life goes on. Nicki is managing her change of medication as well as she can, on top of finishing building two new houses and renovating two older ones. She's still smiling, but only just. Sleep deprivation is getting to her. Work is inevitable, at least I've got a job to complain about. I'm at school on Monday wondering how I'm going to get through the day, let alone the week. And the first work back after term holidays always goes slowly.

Mind over matter and autopilot sees me through. On Tuesday Robyn drops off boxes of family stuff from Alexandra. I'm grateful but feel overwhelmed again. Every time stuff comes into the house, it adds to the general clutter and my brain threatens to melt down. Made of sterner stuff, I don't dwell on such a first world problem. I have to keep going till it's all in and all put away or moved out to a different life or the land fill.

 Tom calls to even out the back garden dirt pile then sew grass seed. I'm nearly there with landscaping but the 500mm high foundations present challenges of differing levels and concrete extending into the garden. A practical man, Tom suggests bricks. I'm in no rush. Kevin from Dig Out Services dumped a truck load of dirt after the demolition and before the foundations, future proofing the landscaping. So glad he did, so good to see it gone.  It's a clear sign of progress. My garden is an outdoor extension of my house, essential, integral and it needs to be good. I remember Tui putting down flower beds when we arrived at Te Anau. Fifty years later it's time for me to roll up my sleeves and tackle this part of the build. My house journey is nearly over but finishing off is way more involved and time consuming than I ever imagined.