The evening sun casts a pale orange hue across the low-rise buildings. A cool breeze flows through the neighbourhood, flushing the faces of the expectant residents eager to start their weekend. A quiet nod, a welcoming smile, a flutter in their pace.
This is where my first home lies. It’s in a nondescript part of Singapore, where life seems to move slower than the rest of the island.
The purchase of my first home came about by accident. I was all of 27, just coming to terms with my first job and dabbling in property investment was hardly in my horizon. But as a true-blue Singaporean, it seems like this should be the next stage of my life – and soon I was handing over a cheque that literally emptied my bank account – on the promise of a home, that will “definitely rise in value”.
I may have stumbled upon the purchase by accident, but this property was love at first sight. The pale greyish outer walls, the linear angles of the apartment, the gigantic heritage tree that fronted the property – everything about it appealed to me on a deeper level than I realised.
And the icing on the cake – the silence. I have always favoured silence over music and chatter but this was on a totally different level. Imagine pin drop silence – day and night. The only noise to pierce through the air was often the brustling of the tree branches or a child wailing. But even the kids seemed to know what we hold sacred – and go silent soon after.
Although I enjoyed my apartment, I didn’t actually develop much of a feeling for it. Until 2020 – when COVID hit.
My home became my sanctuary as isolation hit. A united sense of gloom fell over the apartment; the silence now overtaken by the clatter of keyboards as everyone worked from home. This was accompanied by the chatter of kids and the exasperation of parents as home-based learning tested everyone’s patience.
Yet there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It came every evening at 6pm.
It was when everyone came out of their apartments – no masks as it was not required when you exercise. Some walked, some ran – but it wasn’t just about getting some exercise. It was a chance to acknowledge each other, and to silently appreciate the fact that we were all in this together.
But soon I realised, property investments are hardly about developing attachments. In fact, the lack of emotions is deemed the right tool for a good investment.
Seeing that my investment had hardly appreciated in the last five years ( “there’s no new developments, no hustle and bustle, it’s too quiet!”) I was advised to let it go.
I’ve now moved on to a new property.
It’s at a prime ‘rest of core region’ area; it’s double the price, nearer to town, has all the hustle and bustle as well as the connectivity than one needs. I’m told the value should appreciate and I shouild be confident to flip it for a sound profit.
It’s everything my first property was not. But is it a home? Hardly, I think. My first home still remains my first love. And I wait to be swept off my feet the next time round.
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