Wellington was amazing. The city put on its finest weather for our precious few days there, and I know for sure that a piece of my soul will always belong to that city.
New Zealand is so wild, so rugged that a twenty-minute drive outside the city will allow such spectacular scenery that your heart aches.
Spring is in full swing, and the evidence is everywhere:
Our all-too short trip got me thinking about experience, about how every person processes things differently and no two people will ever experience something in exactly the same way.
My childlike excitement at our return was a contrast to Peter’s much more contained joy. Every street, the various beaches and hills carry so many memories for me. After living there for twenty years, Peter was just as happy to say goodbye again.
I suppose the fact that I didn’t have the chance to entirely conquer the city contributes to my elation on returning, but it goes deeper. I arrived in Wellington at a real turning point in my life, and it amazes me how much has changed in three short years.
The small city is a vessel for a lifetime of memories, of friends and stories of the most poignant kind.