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Memory File from 17 Houston Rd, 2018
A soft return to a day I never meant to forget
I gave myself a small assignment today: to write about a memory from the past that makes me happy. A gift to myself.
So I sat down, plugged in an old hard drive, and scrolled back to the year of 2018. That was my second, and final, year of graduate study.
I wanted to remember how beautiful that year was: living the student life with my close friends at 17 Houston Rd in Kensington, NSW, where the house we shared was always full of laughter and the occasional cry — though, to be fair, maybe more of the latter.
None of us were successful people making money yet. We were just regular students, broke, hopeful, and loud (Our neighbors like us, though). We’d come home every day from wherever we’d been, but never straight to our own rooms. The moment we stepped through that low gate before the house, one we could easily jump over, we’d head straight to the kitchen island to rattle out our frustrations. That was the first thing to do. We talked, however briefly, and then moved on with life.
…
I opened the photo folder, thinking maybe I’d write a story about one of our travels. But I stumbled. This wasn’t as easy as thought it would be. I couldn’t remember enough details to tell a proper…
