Liv Hambrett

Germany + Australia + Culture + Motherhood + Home

Travel + Life Abroad

We Are Always Moving

Facebook keeps reminding me it was exactly five years ago I was on Santorini. Exactly five years ago today, it tells me, you uploaded a picture of a pomegranate! (And what a gorgeous, deeply orange pomegranate it was.) Exactly five years ago yesterday, you were sitting at a medicore restaurant, run by an absolute lech, getting drunk on a litre jug of cheap, local white wine. And it was wonderful. Baking hot and wonderful.

Santorini 1 095

Five years ago, you were 25 and you had just left Australia with a few thousand dollars and a Working Holiday Visa for Germany burning a hole in your pocket. Five years ago you were about seven kilograms lighter and had one bag stuffed with summer dresses and a DSLR camera someone stole from your room when they climbed a wall and snuck in through the window while you were at work. Bastards. You were six months off meeting the man you would eventually marry, in a city you hadn’t even arrived in. Five years ago there was no indication of how it would all look now.

Tam's Camera 883

I know the way the narrative goes. I was once a young, carefree thing, and now, as a thirty year old, with a baby and a husband, I have ‘settled down’ (such an irritating phrase, said by others with such certainty of your immobility and stagnation). My glory days behind me, I am now sentenced to look back on photos of Greek summers with a sense of loss. Loss of my freedom, loss of my more impressive 25 year-old body, loss of a certain lifestyle.


But what a wholly unsatisfying narrative that is! For one thing, it makes erroneous assumptions about the fullness of life in this very moment, and conveniently forgets the less fun parts of life then. For another, it invites tedious comparisons that are nonsensical to make. It demands I look at life now and consequently yearn for life then, as if life then and now are two different beasts, not one and the same, two spots on a continuing spectrum. It doesn’t allow for the wonder of natural progression, of movement; it tells you to look away from the rich enjoyment of decisions, both conscious and unconscious, coming to fruition. To ‘settle down’ is perceived as a cessation of movement, and that is where this narrative gets it so very wrong; we never stop moving.

Santorini 2011 040

Santorini 2011 073

My daughter turned one yesterday. Time has never shown itself to be quite so cruelly quick. As photo after photo of that Santorinian summer show up on Facebook, and I fall down the rabbit hole of cheap wine and cave houses and the endless drama that seemed to follow our mercurial lives on that sun-baked island, sitting next to me popping individual peas into her mouth with a perfect pincer grip, is my most beautiful reminder of movement, of fruition. Regardless of what I did after that summer, of what any of us did, none of us would ever be able to go back and recapture precisely those three months where rooms were cheap, empty, and dusty, and you lived off tips and free drinks. Movement. Fruition. These forces don’t allow for repetition, and rightly so.

Santorini 2011 159 (2)

I will never have the body I did at 25, just like I will never have the one I have now, at 30. I will never be back on Santorini with the bag stuffed with dresses and Working Holiday Visa burning a hole in my pocket. But I will be there again with my family, and we will create our own memories, that years later will show the path from then to now. Facebook will keep reminding me of times in my life from which I have moved on; next year it will be my daughter’s first birthday, an event that I find myself clutching quite tightly. And while our roots in this soil are deep, they can always come up, and where we are now – as people who have settled down – is not where we will be in a few years time.

Because we don’t ever really ever settle. We all keep moving; it’s all we know how to do.



  1. Brigitte

    11 August, 2015 at 1:14 pm

    Thank you for your latest wonderful reflection.
    FB, as a recorder of our own history, is flawed, or reflecting our flaws. We capture mostly our joyous, touching experiences on FB, in photos, etc.
    As FB now has this feature of reminding us where we were in years past it makes it look like life was better. Oh, that squed lens. I changed my FB setting this, the worst winter in Boston/Cambridge, when we had over 100″ of snow. fB reminded me every day that I was in St. Kitts last year at that time. grrrh!
    We could record more of our misery and then gleefully look back a year later, “oh look at how miserable I was just a year ago…”
    No, I think the changed FB settings are working just fine for me. I would rather focus on the joys of life as I live it. Not to compare to before but rather to BE IN! Here and now! Like you!

    1. Liv

      16 August, 2015 at 11:03 am

      There is a lot to be said for changing the FB settings and creating a feed that you actually enjoy perusing! I quite like seeing my memories (although sometimes they are super boring, and I think, ‘ugh, I facebooked that?’ hahaha

  2. Michael P. Whelan

    11 August, 2015 at 1:41 pm

    Brilliant piece.

    1. Liv

      16 August, 2015 at 11:02 am

      Thrilled you enjoyed it.

  3. Hemborgwife

    13 August, 2015 at 1:46 pm

    Such a wonderfully written post. I am in a state of transition now and I keep feeling like so many eyes are on me for that “settling down” but I just do not think that will ever be me.

    1. Liv

      16 August, 2015 at 11:02 am

      And I think even when you do ‘settle’, it doesn’t mean you will stop moving. I think we are able to do both, somehow, simultaneously. Good luck with your move!

  4. sarahstaebler

    13 August, 2015 at 8:47 pm

    Just lovely. As always. <3

    1. Liv

      16 August, 2015 at 11:01 am

      Thank you so much xx

  5. Rike

    17 August, 2015 at 9:42 am

    Du sprichst mir aus der Seele, Liv. I refuse to believe that just because I got married and had 2 kids within the last 5 years my life has come to a hold. In fact the opposite is true, we moved from Switzerland to England to German, and had 5 different jobs between us. And yet I often get these ‘now that you’ve settled’ remarks. The most ironic part is that especially when your kids are so little you really feel that time is fleeting (and madness takes its toll ;).
    I really enjoy your writing, thank you for sharing your thoughts.

  6. ebe

    9 September, 2015 at 3:14 pm

    Absolutely beautiful written and perfectly thought out.

    1. Alyssa

      26 September, 2015 at 9:28 am

      Completely agree. This is a beautiful personal account of what settling down means.

What do you think?