"My imagination is all I need."
For Nicky, home has never been about perfection. It's been about feeling. A haven built through creativity, family, collected objects, humour, resilience, and finding beauty in the middle of life's chaos.
"I'm a homebody," she says. "So whenever I move into a new space, my number one task is making it feel like home as quickly as possible."
Not polished. Not styled for anyone else. Just layered with the things she's gathered throughout her life. Art. Texture. Stories. Pieces that carry meaning.
Her creativity spills into everything. Graphic design. Jewellery making. Ceramics. Weaving. Interiors.
"My home is a living manifestation of it," she says. "I've unashamedly drenched my boys in creativity."
And now, after years of raising her sons, navigating enormous life shifts, and rebuilding what home means entirely, she's found herself returning to where it all started. Graphic design.
"I'm back working for an incredible company," she says. "I'm genuinely happy to roll out of bed and go to work every day."
Life, she says, feels good right now. Really good. "My boys are men now. Good men. So I'm happy with the last 20 years I invested there."
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Everything changed when her eldest son Levi was diagnosed with VHL, a rare genetic condition that causes tumours and cysts to grow throughout the body. Before treatment became accessible, Levi had already lost sight in one eye and undergone brain surgery to remove a tumour.
Then came another life-altering moment. Her second son, Fletcher, crashed while attempting a double backflip on his bike, leaving him paraplegic instantly.
"Everything changed," she says simply.
The future she had imagined for her boys suddenly looked different. "I had to redefine what my dreams were for them," she says. "I realised those dreams will probably still come true -- just an altered version."
It's not something she speaks about dramatically. There's no performance around the pain. Instead, there's honesty. Dark humour. And an enormous amount of strength.
"What did I learn about myself?" she laughs. "How much fucking stress I could handle without being medicated and locked up in a psych ward!"
Through all of it, creativity remained constant.
Before motherhood, creativity was everything to her. "It was part of who I was and how I was identified."
And even through the hardest years, she kept creating. Because creating wasn't just work. It was identity. Freedom. A way back to herself.
"My creativity has manifested in so many forms over the years," she says. "But I've learned I always need to be doing something creative. It's who I am."
That instinct to create also shaped the environment her sons grew up in. Not just visually -- emotionally. She wanted them to grow up surrounded by expression, openness, curiosity, and individuality. Now she watches them finding their own creative paths too.
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"Loving, understanding, patient, and fun." That's how Nicky describes the kind of mother she is today. "The boys say cool," she laughs.
But motherhood, she admits, still feels hard. "Parenting," she says immediately when asked what still challenges her most. Even now. Especially now. Because parenting doesn't stop when your kids grow up. It just changes shape.
The thing that matters most to her is making sure her sons know she's always there. Without judgment. Without conditions. "That they know I'm always here for them."
These days, when asked what strength looks like, her answer is immediate. "Vulnerability." Not pretending everything is fine. Not carrying everything alone. Just being honest enough to ask for help when it's needed.
Despite everything life has thrown at her family, Nicky still finds grounding in simple routines. Walking. Coffee. A lap around Manly Dam on her days off. Dinner cooked by her husband Pat. Her dogs. Her friends. A detective thriller series before bed.
Small rituals that quietly hold life together.
And after 25 years in Sydney, she says it finally feels like home. Not because life became easier. But because home, for Nicky, was never really about the location. It was about the people inside it. The feeling. The safety. The ability to be completely yourself.
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More than anything, Nicky hopes her sons learn to notice the simple things. "To look up and really appreciate the simplest, most beautiful, real things in the world." And to stay true to themselves. Even when life changes unexpectedly. Maybe especially then.
At the end of the conversation, she shares something her Vietnamese wax lady once told her -- a thought that's stayed with her ever since. "That each of our children are sent to teach us a lesson."
"I love the idea that they are actually our most profound teachers," she says. "Showing us exactly where we need to grow and how to love without conditions."
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