I’ve sold my home.

It’s happening. I’m leaving my 16th floor apartment for a place that will require much more maintenance. No more locking-and-leaving. No more stunning sunrises. No more Keith Jarrett on the stereo, sitting in an armchair and watching the World revolve below me. No more Maungawhau. No more Hauturu. No more monitoring the motorway traffic in real time. No more whipping downstairs to the K Road cafes for a pastry and a flat white. I’m embarrassed to say it’ll be the first time in my life when I’m responsible for mowing a lawn.

I feel a mix of emotions. My apartment is the first and only home I’ve ever owned. At every stage when my housing has changed, I’ve felt a rush of sentimentalism. Each shift has marked a different peg in my life, far more meaningful than supposedly significant birthdays. Leaving home for my first shared flat. Leaving shared New Zealand flats for my first New York studio. Leaving New York, coming home, and buying for the first time. Leaving my apartment for something bigger, something without huge windows and a 16th floor balcony. Something child-friendly.

I remember when I bought my place, the then Prime Minister John Key was asked for his advice to young people struggling to buy property. Get an apartment, he said! Low maintenance. Cheaper. Close to lots of amenities.

He didn’t need to convince me. I’ve always felt at least part of our housing crisis has been caused by a cultural reluctance to embrace high-density living. We associated all apartments with slummy 35-square-metre, tiny-windowed boxes. For many years, it was hard to find warm, bright, higher-end apartments with amenities. My place has a great gym, a big pool, storage lockers, and a billiards room. The walk from the lobby to K Road’s rich variety of cafes and restaurants takes approximately 35 seconds.

Apartments might have suited first-home buyers. I can confirm they don’t necessarily make great investments. I almost certainly overpaid when I first bought my place – I didn’t know the market well enough. You live and you learn, right? But I sold my home at a fair price. CV. After agent fees and everything else, I’ll basically end up with what I paid for it. You could drive yourself mad by playing the what-if-I’d-bought-a-decaying-bungalow-instead game, and knowing my luck, the apartment market will probably double in the next six months. It’s the land value that has wildly appreciated over the last few years. But honestly, I didn’t buy my place intending to make money. I bought it as a home. And in serving that purpose, it’s been perfect.

I’m a big believer that high-density suits people at different stages of life. As well as young professionals, a lot of the people in my building are older. They’ve downsized. They’ve had kids and houses with backyards and gutters to clear. They’ve done that. But now they’ve reached a stage of life where they value lower maintenance living. They enjoy the communal aspect of living in an apartment building. They love the light and the views and being able to walk everywhere.

I feel sad to be leaving the 16th floor. It’s been a wonderful home. I’ll start packing my moving boxes over the next few weeks. And as I look and leave for the final time, it’ll make me happy to know that in 25 or 30 years… there’s a good chance I’ll be back.