Apparently it's a real thing, unconscious feelings and memories which come floating up to the surface as the world turns round the sun and you approach the annual anniversary of some significant life event.
In a few weeks time it'll be a year since we moved from Observatory. One whole year.
It took me a long time, and a little (teeny weeny) bit of therapy to adjust to the change of moving. I'm a bit wussy like that.
And while my house definitely feels like my home, and our environs grow more familiar each day, my roots are still just laying on the surface of this end of town - happy, well hydrated, but not rooted, not yet.
I suddenly find myself missing having my brother and sister-in-law down the road terribly again. Missing the easy access to friends in the area. Missing the throb and life of that wild 'n murky part of town.
I find scribbles in diaries and in notes on my phone which I've made over the last year ...
'Obs vibrant and ugly, here beautiful but static.'
'Surprising people versus surprising environment.'
'15 yrs in Obs to turn into a Town Mouse, now not sure what kind of cheese I like at all.'
We spent a fair bit of time there this weekend. We saw dear ones, celebrated a birthday, witnessed the aftermath of a mugging, navigated the tiny streets, had some junkies asking for handouts, laughed and reminisced and admired the pinky evening light against proud Victorian eaves. I loved it.
But it no longer feels like mine.
I guess that's okay - normal, healthy, important.
But I miss my brother.
And I miss this kind of thing, we don't get this in our new part of town ...