Home is where the heart is. Yeah, it’s been said before.

Tony Bennett left his in San Francisco. Mine is currently somewhere between the Anzac Highway and the tramline in Adelaide – my childhood home. Plympton, to be precise.

A couple of weeks ago, when I went to Adelaide for my book launch, it was a mix of happiness and melancholy.

I had a new book. I was doing a great launch at Dymocks in Rundle Mall and talkback radio even wanted to talk to ME!

But I was also saying goodbye…

Goodbye to the family home I grew up in and the one my own children had grown up in too – at least when we were all there together, visiting my mum.

Mum’s in a nursing home now and the house has been sold. Right now, there’s a first-home buyer working out where her own furniture should go and there’s a fair chance it won’t fit exactly in those carpet indentations where Mum’s stuff had sat for so long before.

The old deli we used to go to for our 5c mixed lolly bags is now a hipster cafe, with smashed avocado and juice blends and my kids won’t ever dance around my old backyard underneath the sprinkler again, like I used to when I was little.

At least they have their memories. I do too.

I just didn’t realise that a house could hold them so tightly.