Moving On

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Moving On

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We’re moving on. I sit at the dining table next to a large window and feel into the space, the house and land, with gratitude. Outside is a square patch of colourful gazanias, their petals partially closed to protect them from the rain. Two large pine trees in the front yard provide shelter for the possums. And along the driveway is a hedge of conifers.

Once again, we’re counting down the weeks and days before we relocate. It was always going to be a temporary situation, though, we weren’t aware of the owner’s plans until a few days after we’d signed the lease.

It’s an old community. Daily happenings have become predictable. Monday nights, a choir gathers next door. Many a senior walks by regularly to buy the daily newspaper from the corner store at the end of the street. Young mum’s push strollers, and people walk their dogs. In the summer months Friday night appears to be fish ‘n’ chips or pizza night, as families walk to collect their order.

At the front of the property are two wooden beams that make a fence. A row of red geraniums poke their flower heads through the slats, inviting little tackers to stop and pick one or two.

Today the wind blows, leaves quiver, and I feel grateful to be indoors. The house is old, though it’s been a safe haven for my sons, and me since my return from Canada. Although cold air seeps in around the door and window seals, and the plumbing shudders and shakes, it’s sturdy and well-built and has served us well.

The backyard is a vista of green, lush grass, patches of weeds, dotted with dandelions. An old Hills hoist sits in the middle of the yard and reminds me of my childhood, when I’d swing like a monkey from its steel frame. In Australian suburban tradition the backyard wouldn’t be complete without a lemon tree. Its ancient roots protrude above the earth, and its fruit is prolific with green and ripe lemons, unsure of what season we’re in.

Neighbours tell me there was once a magnificent vegetable garden that adorned the backyard too. The elderly owner was a man well-known for sharing his produce with all the neighbours. In the harvest month, we were fortunate to pick a solitary zucchini from a self-sown plant.

It’s a big block of land, and like a precious jewel, they’re becoming rare. Soon, the house and trees will be demolished as developers move in and replace the old with the new.

Maybe I’m being too sentimental and sensitive to my surrounds. Though, energy is present wherever we are and it feels good to sit in the gratitude. I say a silent prayer of thanks for the shade and fruit the trees provided, and for the roof over our heads. And as the gentrification process takes over, I send my blessings to the elderly folk in the neighborhood. Like us, they too will eventually move on.

Have you ever lived in a house that was earmarked for demolition? How did you feel about it? Do you live in an older community?

Write to Heal and make your mark!


Leanda Michelle ♥

About Author

Leanda Michelle

Leanda Michelle is a writer and author, workshop creator and facilitator. An advocate and educator of natural healing methods, Leanda has transformed her life from student to Master Teacher and entrepreneur, and believes all have the power within to heal and rewrite their story. Leanda is a disciplined yoga and Pilates fan, loves capturing photographic moments in nature, is confident in the kitchen and passionate about travelling to sacred places. When she’s not writing, Leanda loves to sing as though no one were listening. Sensitive and empathic, Leanda aspires to uplift and empower others to live a meaningful life. A loyal friend, she values integrity and the splendour of being. Presently, Leanda is home in Australia visualising her next projects and writing adventures.



May 8, 2017at 8:16 am

Your description makes me feel sentimental towards this house and the routine of the local community. Gorgeous words. Best of luck with “moving on” ! X

    Leanda Michelle

    May 8, 2017at 8:29 am

    Thanks Druime for the good wishes, and for reading. May your week be blessed with blissful energy♥

Debby Kyes

May 8, 2017at 1:04 pm

I so enjoyed your story, Leanda. I’ve always loved old houses. When I see one of these old girls abandoned or marked for demolition it never fails to tug at my heart.

Janet Stephan

May 11, 2017at 6:23 pm

What a beautiful representation and reflection Leanda. It tugs on my heart too as there is no regard for nature and the beauty of time that is reflected through them. The neighborhood will be shocked at the loss and be affected by the lack of respect for everyone and everything. I dream of the time when trees are humans priority. I believe we will then know peace. From the age of 7, for 18 years I lived on a 3/4 acre block that had 11- 40ft trees being pines, oaks and willows, one wisteria that always threatened to gobble up half of the house, ferns and hedges… had been my playground. 12 years after I had moved out, I had discovered that the whole block had been cleared and replaced with gravel for a truck business. It was completely beyond my comprehension. I was extremely upset on so many levels…..I just had to practice letting go of any attachment. I’m still practicing. I hope your move is smooth and fulfilling. Lots of love to you and your boys for your adventures ahead. xxx 🙂

    Leanda Michelle

    May 11, 2017at 6:36 pm

    Seeing your playground replaced by a gravel yard would have been heartbreaking Janet. Another friend shared that something similar happened with a hotel she grew up in… she said it was like all the memories had been erased. Here it seems to be happening on such a large scale. The council must be inundated with applications. I like your vision “when trees are humans priority we will know peace”. Thank you for reading and sharing your story. I practice letting go with you!♥

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