I wasn’t born by the coast. The town I grew up in was landlocked, and a busy, bustling place. It was alright, loads of schools for kids to be sent to (some better than others) and shops galore in the high street.
The older I got, the more I wanted to get out of there. Something about it just didn’t agree with me. It was too big and too busy. Finding a job, any job was too hard, and I hated going to the local job centre.
I daydreamt about moving somewhere else, but couldn’t see it happening. Until my dad made the big annocement. Truth be told, I was shocked. It really was true. I thought it was just a joke at first, until the “for sale” sign went up, and potential buyers started looking round the house. It felt…strange, considering that we wouldn’t be there much longer.
The house sold fairly quickly, but complications on both ends meant we didn’t move out until February this year. Everything packed away into boxes, the guinea pigs in their travelling cage and the house left empty. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know how I felt. The thing I’d say dreamed about for so long was truly happening, and…it felt odd.
Ended up a long way away, in a small sea side town further south. Has taken me a while to adjust. To adapt and get used to things. Hell, I did feel all adrift, at one point. Now, though? Now I feel more at home. Yes, it seems that there are loads of tourists in the summer, but can easily avoid them by going shopping early or not going to the beach. The weather is so changeable down here, and there’s usually a nice sea breeze, so it never gets too warm. All in all, I think I like living here now. No longer feel lost. I have a job and a purpose. Just have to remember that.