I Moved to Balmoral Beach

I just moved to Sydney, Australia from the States. I moved in with the kindest and most fun Australian couple, who my dad had met through work. I’d never met them and they never had met me, but they offered their spare room in Balmoral Beach to me with open arms.

The morning after my first night here, I went made the five minute walk down to the beach to explore my new neighborhood.

I felt like I stumbled into a beautifully written novel, one with delicious imagery that makes your senses tingle in overdrive.

The smell of sunscreen mingled with something decidedly floral, like honeysuckle in the sun. The constant woosh of waves underlay the accented chatter of many beach-goers.

Three mean high school girls tossed their long hair and exchanged stinging comments about someone in their class. “Mums” pushed “prams” and made declarations. “That’s why I brought this big beach tote, to be a mule.”

I saw a miniature straw hat atop curls looking out to the sea in wonder. Tiny rainbow-stripe, swim-suited body stopped in its busy little tracks.

Neon yellow umbrellas faced off with the sun and sky. Sand castles being constructed and destructed.

Brilliant blue, topped with little white sails, fringed with sand and sun-bathers. Miles of skin in sight—tiny bikinis and men in Speedos.

I meandered, taking note of as many sights and sensations as I could manage, trying to understand what it meant. The hum and humdrum of hundreds of lives and stories swirled around me. I imagined being the child staring at the ocean. I imagined being the mum with one ear in a conversation with her friend and one eye on her bouncy, runaway child. What did this place mean to them? Will it one day mean the same to me?

I saw Balmoral Beach. I felt it, I smelt it and heard it. And all with a sizable sense of anticipation because, even so, I don’t yet understand it.

I knew the details of the setting would soon be superseded by the plot. But this moment is key, and essential. Where are you? What is this place in which your story will unfold?

Walking around, I felt like the audience, as the stage was set for me in all its sumptuous detail. No one seemed to notice me or their surroundings much. They are many steps ahead, caught up in their own plots.

I, on the other hand, am just opening up the book. I will soon turn from “audience” to “main character.” Rather than being the ghostly reader, able to scan the page and return to a different world, I will have a stake in the territory. I will live here for the next few months, weeks and minutes.

I guess what I am trying to say is—it’s odd meeting the place for the first time that you know will one day be very important to you.