I love moving homes
A life-long journey of moving homes
The last time I moved was over two years ago. From a rented townhouse to my newly built house. After renting for a year, I was impatient to move into my home. In that waiting period, all I did in my spare time was to plan and design the interior fit-outs and furniture. That was a thrilling time — a period I enjoyed very much, in that design phase.
Now you may wonder why it is such an exciting thing to move homes. I know; many hate it. Moving homes create anxiety, dispossession, adjustment, and instability. It could be stressful. It must be weird to be on the opposite spectrum. I love moving homes. That instability came too early, and I learned to thrive on it.
The first move
My first move home was when I was four years. My parents moved from my father’s ancestral home in a crowded setting to another home that belonged to my mother. It was a large property, one of the biggest in a quiet neighbourhood in Mudiyansegewatta. The only disadvantage was it had no electricity. That was made up of a huge garden, with plenty of room to play for me and my friendly neighbourhoods kids in a semi-rural setting. Everything a boy could ask for.
The second move
After seven years in that house, I moved to a Christian brother’s boarding school when I was eleven. Everything I owned was packed into a tiny suitcase. I was not distressed about leaving my family at such a tender age when play and friends are foremost on one’s mind. Instead, I looked forward to hanging out with my friends in the new boarding school. A new experiment on living in a commune setting.
The third move
Two years later, from that boarding school, I moved to a new boarding school in Colombo, the capital. No stress again. Now, nearly fourteen, my suitcase was slightly heavier. The new school was different, more famous with much older boys. I was in the most junior batch of boys. I learned to survive and deal with bigger boys. I became the secretary of the English literature union, dominated by bigger boys.
The fourth move
Short two years into that boarding school, I was no longer happy there. I asked my parents to bring me back home. They instantly agreed. Delighted, I came home with my father, who carried my suitcase packed with clothes and schoolbooks.
Now. the fun began. After that four-year gap in two boarding schools, I lived for five years at home again. I was now the carefree teenage boy. My family home was open to my friends. I had my room at eighteen. It was the best period of my life at my parents’ home. A thriving time to discover the world.
The fifth move
My next from home was to Dubai, leaving home to cross the seas on my first international flight. Wearing my only suit and tie with my suitcase, I must have looked too young at the airport. The security asked whether I was going overseas to study. In Dubai, I lived in shared accommodation, a room with three other lads, in a huge apartment complex occupied by the youth of both sexes. That was a fabulous time, an experience of a lifetime, told as a separate story.
The sixth move
Within four months, my stay at the shared youth accommodation ended abruptly when I changed jobs. Disruption was now in my genes. I moved to a shared house in Sharjah, with my suitcase and a new stereo travelling in a taxi from Dubai to Sharjah. Instead of youngsters, I lived with older flatmates who were almost my parents’ age. It was an old villa in the middle of sandy pathways. It reminded me of homes in Tin Tin comic comics of Arabian countries I read as a boy. The villa was basic and had running water and an old-style bathroom.
The seventh move
Within six months, everyone moved to an apartment. Moving was easy because the old Arabic villa was next to the brand-new apartment building. We moved to flat number 9 on the 3rd floor. I moved my bed, clothes, metal cupboard and suitcase, myself. Everything was shared, cooking, household chores, shopping, utility bills and rent.
An analogue move
While living in Sharjah and working in Dubai, I built a brand-new house for my parents on our huge land parcel in Sri Lanka. I helped to finance and design, but my father project managed the build, helped by my kid brother, who was still in high school. I was in my early twenties when the bug of building homes caught me.
The eighth move
I lived in this flat for five years until I got married when I moved to my apartment for the first time. It was a modern studio apartment in the heart of Dubai. I was one of the first tenants in that brand-new building, a walking distance from my work. Discarding my old furniture, bought on the cheap, I bought a huge queen bed, a matching cupboard imported from Spain and an expensive Persian carpet. That small apartment was our little palace. Simple and cosy.
The ninth move
When we were expecting our first child, we moved to another apartment, bigger. The move was easy because the new building was next door. Salwar-kameez-wearing labourers moved our furniture by hand from one door to the next. My brother-in-law, Randy and his friends also helped in the move. I ordered new furniture, and suddenly I had a full-on home.
The tenth move
After two years in the new apartment, my family was expanding with two small kids. It was time to shift again to a much bigger apartment. We moved to a three-bedroom one in Satwa, Dubai. I sold most of the old furniture to the new tenant and bought new furniture. The move was complex because we were expecting our third child. But it seemed easy enough with Kanthi, our domestic helper and a ton of movers.
The eleventh move (into double digits)…
After four years in that large apartment, we were on the move again. We were passed to migrate to Australia. We decided to downsize in the last few months in Dubai. My partner left for Sri Lanka with the three kids while I moved to a one-bedroom apartment. I shipped a container of personal effects to Sydney.
The twelfth move
Later that year, we moved to Australia, flying via Sri Lanka and crossing continents again. We lived with my brother-in-law and his family in Sydney for three months. During those three months, two of my kids started schooling. I bought a block of land to start building a family home. I looked for work and, within three months, secured a job. It was a tough time, settling in a new country, figuring out things, having three little kids and a pregnant partner, and learning to drive on the left side of the road. Tough it was, we made sure we succeeded.
The thirteenth move
After I started working, the five of us moved to a rented townhouse in Quakers Hill. It was a temporary arrangement until the new family home was built. Four months into the townhouse, our fourth child was born, the first Australian citizen in our family. Much of the focus was settling the kids and building our family home in the neighbouring suburb. We spent nine months in that townhouse.
The fourteenth move
When the house construction was complete, we moved to the new house at Glenwood. A much-anticipated move that meant a lot to me. Getting to my own home was a dream come true. It was the second house I built, but this was for my own family. The first was for my parents in Sri Lanka. The new house in Glenwood was large, with 5-bed rooms with space in the backyard for kids, a playhouse and a pergola fitted with an Australian must-have, a barbeque. Furnishing the house was a joy, with superior quality furnishings and fittings readily available in Australia. It was a lovely time moving in and settling my four kids in a new suburb, in a country to call their own. Having provided a stable home for my kids, I felt uber happy having done that.
The fifteenth move
Nine years on, three of my kids were teenagers. They needed bigger rooms and space for them and their friends to hang out. It was time to move to a bigger home. Even as a kid, I dreamt of raising children in a two-storey home. Pursuing that dream, I bought a block of land in an adjoining suburb. We sold our first-ever home in Australia for a record price and moved to a rented home in Glenwood until the new house was complete. My friend from Dubai, Rohit, helped me greatly with the move. Rohit is a super planner, one for checklists; he gave me a template to follow. On our last night, our first-ever own home in Australia, my kids lit fireworks to say goodbye to a home they had grown up in, to celebrate and mark that epic transition.
The sixteenth move
One and a half years later, we moved to this massive house in a gated community. There was a shared clubhouse, a swimming pool and a tennis court. It was a great place for my wiry teenage kids to hang out with each other, their cousins, and friends, a glorious time for them. Six years into that house, my kids had grown up. The eldest had left for Washington, having finished her university studies. The other two were in university. Only the youngest was yet in private schooling.
Everything must come to an end. I separated from my partner and left home, leaving my family home. That was a tough move, one I agonised with.
The seventeenth move
This was probably the toughest move of my life. I moved to a small, cheap apartment in Merrylands while my family lived in the original home. A small moving company helped me to move my stuff to a lone apartment that looked deserted. Having lived in a large house with four energetic kids, it was a drastic change. I missed my four children. I ran two houses and supported my kids until they finished their education. On some nights, I cried thinking of my four children. My rented apartment was simple, I had only basic things. But I survived leading a stoic lifestyle with a bucketload of hope and will to overcome my adversity.
The eighteenth move
After eight months in that apartment, I was on the move again. I moved to a high-quality apartment in Turramurra on the north shores of Sydney. I packed everything using my moving template from Rohit. The same moving company helped me with the move. My son came to the new flat to help me fix the furniture. Within a few days, I was up and running again. Now, the commute to work was easier. I was happy rejuvenating with daily walks and building capital to buy a house again.
The nineteenth move
While living in the apartment at Turramurra, I bought a block of land and started building a house. I did not have the 10% deposit required by the bank to grant me a loan. By now, my eldest was financially secure in Washington. She helped me with the deposit, and the new house was completed within nine months. I moved with the same moving company to the new house at The Ponds, a new burgeoning suburb. It was a relatively small house, but it was good enough. I had come full circle owning houses in my second life.
The twentieth move
I enjoyed living in my new house again. The house prices in the suburb experienced high growth, the highest in New South Wales, almost doubling in value. It was time to sell up and move up the property ladder. Less than three years into living in my new home, the home was sold for almost 100% more. I moved to a brand new two-bedroom apartment in Kellyville Ridge, renting it while scheming the purchase the next property to live on. Rohit’s checklist and the same moving company’s mob were my companions for the move. Now, I was an expert in moving, loving my constant moves.
The twenty-first move
While living in the rented apartment at Kellyville Ridge, I bought a big block of land, nearly 700 square meters and built a two-storey house using the same builder who built my previous dwelling. Now not only was I an expert in moving but also an expert in house buildings and interior décor. I learned the art of doing high-quality things without breaking the bank. After about one year and three months in the apartment, I moved to the new house at Kellyville North, a prestigious and expensive suburb. Moving was easy again with the same set of movers and my moving companion, the checklist.
The twenty-second move
I lived in this new house for less than one year. It was a nice house, but there was too much maintenance. The garden was too huge. I spent most of my spare time in the house and garden. Meanwhile, one of my kids moved to Auckland while another was building a home while his partner was expecting their first child — a time to reset priorities now. I decided to live close to them, thinking of the grandchild to come. The property market changed; it was no longer bullish. Yet, I sold the property in that tough market, recovering my costs. No loss and no capital gain. With that money, I bought a smaller block closer to my son’s home, determined to build a compact home with utility-oriented luxuries. While the new land was being registered and the new house was being built, I moved to a new, rented townhouse in Schofields, again using the same movers and the logistical checklist.
The twenty-third move
After living in the rented townhouse for nearly a year, my new dream house was complete. I moved to the new house at Marsden Park with a new moving company. I took time to settle into the new house. My friend Franz, who lived with me then, was a great help in that smooth move and set-up of my new home.
I enjoy living in my current home, carefully designed with my brand. It is of contemporary design yet boasts of my ancestral heritage with family heirlooms beautifully placed among my modern furniture. It is clutter-free and super organised. I am proud of it. It is all paid for. In ten years since my separation, I am financially secure, owning my place under the sun, yet again, the second time. In the meantime, my grown-up kids love their own moves, some moving countries and states and some owning several homes.
Now I live within walking distance of my son’s home. They have a daughter and a son, my grandkids. They are a part of my life. Now, I am the patriarch of 11 family members, a growing one, soon to be 12.
I am a numbers man. Twenty-three moves later, on average, I have moved homes every three years of my lifetime.
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