Overview
The beginnings and endings of things are always tricky.
I guess the wind came first, and perhaps we can treat that as a metaphor for the change and pivotal shift in my life that came with it.
Moving to Wellington when I was newly 18 was a gearshift from first to fourth in one, great, Toyota Corollian leap.
I came from the sun of provincial New Zealand to a city so unforgiving on jandals
I had to throw them out: this city made you walk.
Into the teeth of the wind and up hills in heavy coats, down darkened walkways with the lights turned out.
It was bright, strung together by the lights that lined Mighty Mighty, and the ominous yellow of Welcome Takeaways that later got shut down for failing health and safety standards.
For a feeling of being so far away, you also felt incredibly close. We used to wrap up in fur-lined coats at 12 at night and go out – to the waterfront, to Cuba Street, to wherever, just to see what was happening. Because there always was.
Something. Happening. There is still that homeless guy in the park, the skateboarders out.
If you stay out long enough and wait politely, you might still be able to snag some hot bread from Aro Bake on the way home up Holloway Road. 3am at the earliest.
Everyone is leaving now - you are probably sick of hearing about the exodus -
but it’s true. As though all our friends just woke up one day, packed up their suitcase and followed the wind. Until it took them somewhere new again.
The beginnings and endings of things are always tricky.
Annabel Hawkins has recently launched her first book; This must be the place, a collection of poetry and prose. Available in all good book stores and online at makaropress.co.nz
Illustration by Alice Clifford.