We Moved Into Our New Home
In the latest edition of Rachy’s Radar last month, I promised you some updates on the latest changes that had been keeping me occupied and posting less frequently. Well, perhaps you noticed the change of scenery in my Instagram stories or you guessed right as the title of this post gave the big news away, but my family and I moved into our new home.
Many of you will know that I’ve moved around a lot in the last few years. After high school, I moved from Italy to Manchester for university and I’ve lived in various areas of the big city ever since. In fact, my first blog post on travel was all about being a serial mover as I shared my tips on how to make each new room feel ‘homey’. I had only been blogging for a few months back then and I remember all the excitement that came with shooting the pictures for the post. I purchased a remote control for my DSLR camera, set the self-timer and took a ton of pictures for way too long. The satisfaction in seeing the work I crafted from scratch published and public for everyone to see is a feeling I still look forward to each time I work on a new idea.
Saying goodbye to a home is never that easy. When I moved away from Italy, I definitely questioned whether I would ever feel as at home as I did in the house that built me and while I can’t say I have, I hold on tighter to the memories I made there and the photos that take me back every time.
Moving to our current new house was definitely easier to do this time around because a) it’s bigger and better than the last and b) it’s on the same street as the previous one. As a matter of fact, my postcode didn’t change much and we only had to walk a few doors down to our new place which took away a lot of the worries I had about moving during the lockdown.
It was super easy to settle down seeing this time there wasn’t much new to get used to – same streets, same corner shops, same roads leading to the same places I’ve known for nearly two years. The only thing that’s different is the view from my window I’m still getting used to each morning.
I feel like new houses can symbolise new beginnings. Yes, it is true that the building doesn’t necessarily make the home, but I really believe that feeling at home is something you create.
It’s the sense of familiarity that you feel when your key opens up the doors after a long stressful day or the fact that you know where everything in the kitchen is. There is comfort in knowing that you have a place to hide away when the noise outside gets too loud and that’s something that can’t be taken for granted.
Every house I’ve ever lived in reminds me of the various phases of my life, whether it be the good or the bad or the upside-down. Our house in Italy constantly reminds me of childhood and blissful innocence, blue couches and reruns of Smallville on television every weekday. The first Mancunian house brings back memories of early cold mornings racing against time to catch bus 219 headed into town. The second place I got to call home in Manchester will always make me remember the man at the auto repair shop who always helped me fix wheelchair punctured tyres at odd hours every couple of months, and my last will forever remind of the hard-hitting realities of adulting. From the milestones to each heartbreak; every moment has mattered so much in shaping the person I am today.
What memories or lessons are my new four walls going to give me? I’ve been here less than a month and I am already certain I have a lot to look forward to. Something tells me I’ll be doing a lot of growing while I’m here, and, well, I’m ready to take the rest of this insane year head-on.
Your restless romantic roamer
