As I sit and write this, I am curled up on my new bed, in my room, in my new house. Next to me sits my new plush chilli, and a copy of Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Blind Assassin’ that I bought recently for one single dollar at an op-shop. Across from me, in my new room, is a spare bed. And above that bed are two windows which look over the small courtyard we have out the back. There is an old, beautiful looking tree out there, and it is clear that it has suffered through its fair share of winters, too.