Love Letter to Melbourne

3 Apr

Dear Melbourne,

We’ve been apart for a few days now and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know I was the one who left you, but things have become clearer the further I am from you.  (Maybe because I’m now a safe distance from your drizzle.)

Like all famous objectum relationships, ours was nothing short of tempestuous.  (Especially in February when you really opened the floodgates. Did you know they still haven’t replaced the carpet in our apartment?)

Sometimes I’d wake up in the mornings and my heart would sing just thinking of you lying there, just outside, all mine to grope discover.  But the bad times were hard to forgive.  Like the time you made your train chew me up and spit me out at Balaclava station.  And the time you shut down because of not one, but TWO obscene football games, and then didn’t give me the day off work like everyone else.

Your lame excuses about your goddam beaches.

And the time you WOULDN’T STOP RAINING ALL WINTER.  Why couldn’t you just let that go?

But since I’ve been away from you, I’ve been bombarded by memories of us at our most intimate.  Me tracing my way through your graffitied alleways, heady with the smell of your hot espresso and the sound of jangly bangles on the wrists of beautiful women.  Me squeezing my way into the stale embrace of your countless friendly pubs and making friends with pierced strangers.  (So often pierced! Why, Melbourne?)  The way you just casually had a cigar shop in Toorak Village, all smooth dark wood and British racing green.

Even though it’s over between us, I’ll confess you have style.

So Melbourne, I’m sorry it had to end so soon.  I’ll miss the steely feeling of your tram tracks under my bare feet.

And remember – it’s not true what they say about flat cities.  You’ll always be a double D to me.

Yours (sometimes),

Caroline

Image: http://www.concierge.com/travelguide/australia/photos/photoview/15019

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