Today, we sold our very first family home.
A holiday apartment we bought 10 years ago — our Aussie base when we lived abroad.
It was a place for our family to feel familiar, to celebrate milestones, to create cherished memories. So many Christmases and birthdays. Even some sad family events.
This was also the place that launched my best friend’s interior staging business (she swore no friend of hers would ever furnish their home with a soulless bulk furniture package). She proved to me that style could still be achieved with second-hand and upcycled furnishings.
It became our safe landing pad when we returned home, navigating the trauma of the pandemic years. Let’s not go back there, eh?
I’ve always loved property investing. My investing career began at 22 when, instead of spending my savings on a family trip to Scotland, I bought a modest inner-city apartment. I was lucky — an affordable mortgage, a government grant to help me, and a roommate who nearly covered the entire mortgage each month.
I’m not sure my kids will have that same opportunity for the great Australian dream of early home ownership, but I hope they do.
I’ve written before about how material possessions can hold memories and how hard it can be to let go. But this sale is part of a bigger plan for the future. That doesn’t erase the fact that we spent so many special months there — from when the kids were just toddlers, up until three years ago when we moved into our family home.
We hosted friends, had epic game nights with my siblings, woke up on Christmas mornings to see what Santa left, and played countless games of soccer across the road with Dad and all the cousins. Picnics in the park. Visits to the inflatable pillow and the Gollum tree/fairy door. Extended family gatherings. And, occasionally, a little too much late night revelry on the balcony for our elderly neighbours (sorry about that).
My bestie stayed often, pre-kids, and then post-kids — when she’d feed my littles and give me the rare luxury of a sleep-in.
That one time we hired the now retired rickshaw and rode it along the footpath all the way from Scarborough to Redcliffe Sunday Markets, knocking people off the footpath the whole way along. The looks and laughs we got and the memories we made riding it, are priceless.
It was a holiday home for many guests, local and from overseas. Some called it home for months due to insurance claims after notorious weather events, and others seeking a more sleepy holiday destination right on the ocean. People kept coming back, drawn not just by the location but by the warmth and unique interior style my friend brought to it.
Life really does flash by so quickly. I do love to reflect and take a stroll down nostalgia lane. But onwards and upwards.
It’s time to move forward. To thank this home for the memories, and pour our energy and love into our new home with so much gratitude — and into time with family, which is, after all, a big part of why we came back to Australia.