Last week, our Director, Stefanie Dobro, shared a conversation that stayed with her.
She had been speaking with the owners of a home on Bellevue Terrace, asking a question we often ask – what have you loved most about living here?
They paused for a moment.
And then they spoke about Anzac Day.
Not the home. Not the views. But the Dawn Service at Monument Hill.
They described how, each year before sunrise, the street quietly awakens. Lights flicker on, doors open and neighbours step out into the dark, with a shared sense of purpose – a quiet understanding – as they begin the walk up the hill together.
It’s something they hold close. Not just as a date on the calendar, but as a shared tradition that connects the street’s residents in a deeply meaningful way.
They told her about how, several years ago, one of the local residents began placing plaques, some with photos of soldiers, on gates in the street, recognising the Diggers who had once lived along Bellevue Terrace. The original idea, first research and poppies were Kim Cannon’s and local resident Libby Eustance has kept this tradition going. Incredibly, there were more than 20 young men who lived in this little street who didn’t return. A thought-provoking gesture that carries enormous weight, a quiet acknowledgment of the lives, service and sacrifice that form part of the street’s history.
This Saturday morning, like thousands of others across the country, they will make their way to Monument Hill for the Dawn Service, which begins at 5:50am.
In silence, side by side, they will gather to remember and honour the men and women who have represented and defended Australia, those who continue to serve, and those who gave their lives to protect the freedoms we have today.
There’s something about that moment that’s hard to put into words. Standing there as the sun rises, surrounded by people each with their own thoughts and memories, yet in complete stillness.
It’s a reminder that homes are more than bricks and mortar. They sit within streets and communities, places where history, memory and meaning are carried forward, often in the quietest of ways.
On Anzac Day, we pause. We remember.
Lest we forget.
