I fumble when people ask me where’s home.
I’m never really sure what they mean when they say Home. Is home where my family is? Is home where I spent my childhood? Where I laughed and cried and expanded my world? Where I learnt the joys of being loved or the piercing wounds of loss?
As a kid who grew up in a couple of different countries, you learn a few important things. the first of which is nothing lasts forever. Everyone eventually learns that. But when you grow up in a world where the culture outside of the house is quite different from the inside, you learn that life is fluid, and constantly moving. What’s even more interesting, is how you unconsciously adapt your behavior to your surroundings. You take a step back and look at it from the outside, that’s when you realise you did have an advantage. You learnt to adapt early.
But I digress. Home. For me, that’s where I feel safe. Where I can be accepted for who and what I am, without any expectations or condition. Still working on getting there but you can always create a little bit of home where ever you go.
Not quite sure where I was going with this post