Opinion with outgoing Geraldton Guardian reporter Anna Cox: Home is not a place, but people

Eighteen months ago I put the seats of my Toyota Corolla down and packed what little belongings I had into the back and drove from Perth to Geraldton two days after landing back in WA after living in Melbourne for a year. Victoria was cold, and teeming with people. How could I feel so lonely in a city of five million people? A friend had done a stint at Geraldton Regional Hospital and loved it, inviting me to a house party in Tarcoola Beach during one of my trips back to WA. The people at this party repeated in my head the day I saw a job ad posted on Linkedin. REPORTER — GERALDTON GUARDIAN. “I bet I wouldn’t be cold and lonely in Geraldton”, was my thought process. I was right (as per usual). I moved in with a mutual friend, Maddi. She took me under her wing and introduced me to her large group of mates who (almost all) worked at the hospital. The sense of closeness with them was instant, and not the kind which feels feigned for the sake of companionship. They are the kind that make you laugh-til-you cry, and are beamingly proud to introduce your parents to. Maddi threw me into the deep end — playing country footy for my beloved Northampton Rams. Green and yellow are not my colours, but some of my fondest memories in Geraldton are with the “Ewes” and the painfully loud music in the change rooms before a game. The Guardian was my first big girl job, and it was exactly what I was told it would be. I’d learn more than I ever did at uni, I’d be afforded opportunities I would never gain in a metro newsroom and I’d fall in love with a farmer. It was almost all true. I covered the funeral of WA’s first juvenile to die in detention, sat in on a coronial inquest, and watched the Rams break a 19-year premiership drought. And in true Geraldton style, it wasn’t a farmer — it was a crayfisherman. This week I’ll put the seats of my Corolla down again, and drive nine hours to Albany where I’ll be turning the first page of my chapter as a radio producer. I’ll miss 18C “winter” days and rolling canola fields, but mostly I’ll miss the people. Gero feels more like home than Perth does these days, which proves home is people, not a place.