Importance of place
Updated: Aug 29
Part 5 (a) New Zealand
On my second day in Auckland, my new housemate asked, "Hey, do you want to go to a movie? Jean de Florette is playing at the cinema down the street." I said yes, of course, but inside I was startled. How normal, I thought.
That feeling kept returning. I had arrived carrying the luggage of a person who had been bracing for a long time. Of New Zealand, I expected a new life, hopefully an interesting one, but had not considered a gentler one.
Unexpected wafts of frangipani and jasmine, sea breeze. Rich lush earth that supported roots all year round. Distant mountains observing quietly.
.
I was staying with a Canadian expat. We had friends in common in Saskatoon; she had grown up in Glamis, Saskatchewan. She was a single mother with a three-year-old daughter. On that second day, I heard my daughter playing Barbies with daughter Anthea in the next room.
My muscles relaxed.
It was a balmy summer day in Grey Lynn. Each house had a backyard garden and neighbors dropped by with produce to share. Lynn's friends appeared at the door carrying tomatoes, herbs, lemons, or fruit I couldn't identify but was happy to eat. I was living with another adult for the first time in five years, and I loved the camaraderie that was developing. No grand social arrangement was required. We simply crossed paths, talked, shared food, and carried on.
My muscles relaxed some more
I left my bedroom window open at night. I slept deeply. I stopped checking my clock at night.
****
New Zealand was a movable sensory feast. Fragrant air, warm pavement, green hills that suddenly appeared, and soon after — beaches. Wild and rocky to the west, calm with white sand to the east. The landscape was diverse and kept arriving.
After some time, no longer girding my loins, my heart softened.
I began to attract intimacy, or perhaps I finally stopped pushing it away. I fell in love. I got married. On my lunch hour.
To Rob.
Who left me after 3 years to follow his guru.
And who died Feb 28, 2026 — 6 months ago.
I was never one to fall in love easily. I could see the man he was, and I felt seen in return.
What a surprise.
He had a community and by then, so did I. People seemed comfortable merging those circles to surround us. He became a father figure to My daughter. She liked him. People enjoyed coming to our house.
***
My office in Parnell had louvered windows that let in the garden air. There was beautiful art on the walls and a braided rug under my chair.
The nurses were coiffed, wore makeup and lovely jewellery. I loved their perfume. They liked going out for drinks and tapas after work, and they invited me along. Office hours were ten to four. The pace was relaxed and the office well run.
My major focus was home birthing. Each birth was attended by me and a midwife. These fearless, funny women became part of my social circle too. The professional and personal worlds weren't sealed off from each other. They overlapped.
Babies were born in hot tubs, orchards, and warehouses — accompanied by classical music, kirtan chanting, or whale songs. Birth plans would often be detailed and extravagant; they often went awry when the mother realised that birthing was no party.
But afterwards, the parents, doctor, midwife, and new life might all end up on the bed together, toasting with champagne. Thank-yous of freesias, chocolates and wine would appear at my door the next day.
There was something wonderfully uncharted about it. Pain, beauty, humour, fear, and celebration in the same room on the same day.
****
Above all New Zealand was a period when I cultivated enduring relationships. My soul sisters guided me through experiences that stretched and challenged me, emotionally and spiritually. They were not afraid to push me out of my comfort zone when necessary.
Unwavering and down-to-earth is how I would describe them. They were the sort who were at home in gumboots and laughed from deep in their bellies. Practical and warm, they brought humour and steadiness. Conversations could flow from discussions about emotional pain to the logistics of composting or coordinating school pickups, without elevating one topic above the other.
I lived with Lynn and her three-year-old daughter Anthea, and later with Louise and her twelve-year-old daughter Mary Louise, before moving in with Rob. I am deeply grateful to these women for welcoming my daughter and me into their homes. They didn't just offer us a place to stay — they created families with us.
I could have stayed forever. Yet the pull of family eventually brought me back to Canada. I settled in Vancouver, partly because it resembled New Zealand so much. The air, the water, the green edges of the city, the sense that mountains were part of the conversation.
I was looking for a familiar tenderness.
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