A love letter to my city

Photograph taken by Branden Lee

Monday morning, I took a train across Sydney to my friend Amy's apartment. I needed to do laundry. I planned on coming home early in the afternoon to clean the apartment and write some thank you notes (they're coming, I promise). Instead, I stayed at Amy's apartment until 5:00PM, because neither Stephen nor I were comfortable with me taking the train.

Because just one train station away from our own home, there was a hostage situation. No one knew what was happening or if anything was happening elsewhere or when everything would be finished. You don't need me to give you the details; I'm sure you've either read about it already, and if you haven't, you can find articles easily.

The thing is, when my friends back in the States started messaging me to see if we were okay, I was a little surprised. This is Australia. This place is safe, right? We didn't just suffer the loss of 132 schoolchildren at the hands of the Taliban; we had one man, a convicted felon out on bail, bite off more than he could chew. It ended tragically, but with an outpouring of love, the likes of which I very rarely witness.

Here's the thing. In the middle of that Monday morning, I was a little bit worried and a little bit flustered, but I was not for one second doubtful that this place is a good one to call home. This city, where I've lived for such a short time, has made for itself a cozy spot in my heart, and days like yesterday remind me that my coming here is not situational.

My desire to live here is not situational or circumstantial or a product of Australia being the perfect vacation spot. This place, its people and its culture, even with all the ways it challenges my worldview and sense of normativity, is good for my soul.

It is like Christmas morning, every morning. You know, that feeling you get when you open the gift you really wanted but were afraid to ask for, and you got it any way, and it just doesn't seem real? For me, that's Sydney. That's Stephen and me making our home in Sydney.

And isn't it stellar when that feeling doesn't disappear in the face of fear or difficulty? Something Sydney has taught me, something Stephen has taught me, is that we know decisions are right not when they feel good for the most fleeting of moments. We know decisions are right when everything else seems to be going wrong, but we don't want to change our minds.

So here's to you, Sydney. For standing strong in the face of terror, for being kind in the face of prejudice, and for being a place I'm proud to stand with.