I look in front of me and there’s clothes spinning on a fixed rotary line hanger. You know the ones where you can hang four blankets and you still have space. Under the clear blue skies, a massive tree overarches into my backyard and shadows the freshly mowed grass. Lots and lots of grass.

I smell wooden floors and a hint of fresh paint. White paint to be exact. It just smells a little more, well, white.

I try to hear for a sound. Nothing.

No cars. No noise. No disruptions.

It’s a seismic shift from where I used to be. There were a lot more going on. The air frequently reverberates with the thud sounds of tyres going across potholes and bumps; the honking; the melodic tunes of a budding pianist; the sawing of wood to build birdhouses at midnight and the pressure washing of roads (also hilariously at midnight and somehow authorised by the council).

My apartment also smells a little peculiar sometimes, a crossover between poor ventilation, cheap carpet material, curries and the massive tree in front of the balcony.

But that’s Campsie for you.

I discovered this little suburb a long time ago when I caught up with a friend. It wasn’t until I realised how close it is to my work that I started going there more often with my colleague to have Malaysian food lunches. My non-Malaysian colleague was even more excited than me at times.

I think it is a more unique suburb of Sydney. There are heaps of restaurants, bakeries, hairdressers, butchers, fruit and vegetable stalls, and sundry shops. Within a 5 -walk, I have access to all of that plus the train station and a pau place. It was pleasantly convenient.

It is also more catered towards the working-class community with some shops opening as early as 5:30am, getting ready to sell packed lunches to construction workers. When you go to the train station at that time, it’s literally a sea of fluorescent orange and yellow jackets roaming around.

When my wife and I were looking for a place to live in after marriage, we looked at many places but always circled back to Campsie. The one thing that deterred us was the safety concern which are not unfounded but I think slightly exaggerated. The reputation probably came about due to a higher crime rate and also, it’s a poorer suburb. You can see it in the more rugged roads, the upkeep of the shophouses, the old apartments and 8-dollar haircuts on offer. But this also meant there was more simplicity to life and a necessity to live mainly on essentials.

After much deliberation, we decided to take the plunge because of its affordability and convenience. I say that but there were other suburbs that offered the same two items but this one felt a little familiar and a little more known. It was a little like old parts of Malaysia, in spirit at the very least.

And I really enjoyed being there amidst the noise, flaws and all. It’s a little like that vintage third hand dining table you get from Marketplace with all the little dents and scratches, otherwise known as ‘character’ but still great, and still exudes beauty. It’s little like that.

It was a place where I could see my wife and I live in till we are old. I can be one of the old uncles watching other old uncles playing Chinese chess. My wife and I will be dragging one of the old square trolley bags to fill it with groceries. Maybe we will open a restaurant together and sell some curry chicken. Our kids would have experienced the simple urban life and some Asian culture before going off to dominate the world and becoming leaders in their profession. Our children will always come back from their exotic places to get their cheap bowl-shaped haircuts and tell us to leave the Campsie apartment to move to their big mansions. We will say no as we like it here in the little apartment and it’s too convenient. Just give us cash to use and we will be fine.

It would be nice.

But my wife and I also want a backyard for them to run around in. To not be surrounded by the hustle and bustle too much because life already is full of them. To each have a room to themselves. To not have to fight with the local sounds to say something and to talk. To love the silence. To have the space to just be.

We also yearn for financial stability and to be able to grow our portfolio, to provide for ourselves and for our children. To help them get their own house next time.

Maybe we could have done all of that at Campsie but it would have taken us longer and when it comes to these things, there’s really no time to waste. And so, we have to leave and move much further away to achieve our goals. It requires sacrifice and hard work but it will be worth it. We may be leaving something that reminds us of our childhood home but in return we literally get to build our own one.

For my wife and I, Campsie represents the phase of our lives where it was just us two. It was the place my groomsmen and I prepared for my wedding. It was the place I brought my wife back to for my side of the tea ceremony. We built our first year of married life here and experienced the great joys and sometimes challenging moments of marriage. We hosted our first dinners here together and had our little nephew and godson running around.

On the last day of my lease, with a heavy heart, I went in to the apartment to see the place for one more time. Everything has already been cleared out. All that was there were the indentation and marks on the carpet left behind by the TV stand, tables, sofa and two beds – our memories kind of etched into the place.

In time, even these marks from the more permanent things of life will be gone. It will be replaced by different things, or perhaps just decompress when a more powerful steam cleaner comes along. Different marks will be left by others in different locations. Our memories will no longer be written in the ground and walls. But it has already been written in time.

And we will remember them fondly. We will miss you little Campsie. You have been good to us.

Thank you for the memories.