Home. Funny word that.
Home is where my parents are. Or the hotel in whichever country I am travelling around. Or my bedroom in my flat share. Or my sisters’ flats, when they cook me good food. Or my friends’ homes, when I stay overnight.
I have always felt like I am still searching for home too. I am fluid, life flows, and so adapting to circumstances is in my blood. As you may already know from previous posts, my family has migrated from Middle Asia across to Europe, and back to the Far East, while others born all over the Middle East have travelled to Europe and the West. So, yes, to me, home is, in essence, this world, and wherever I lay my head each night.
I only mention this ability to adapt to circumstances because I know that there are many people out there who consider change a “bad thing”. People I work ‘with’ (ahem, work for…), or drink with… those whose families date back centuries, all of whom were born, lived, and died in one place, their little part of the world. Those who were “freed” when the Berlin Wall went down, but who harked back to the time when communism gave them a structure they could understand.
People are habitual. A lot of us will dig our feet in, trying to avoid those changes. I have done it too – in a spiritual sense; but that’s a different story I won’t tangent on right now.
So this afternoon, when I stepped off the plane and caught the bus back to the street on which I live currently, I was staring out the window at the beautiful autumnal colours of the cherry, oak, sycamore, birch and maple trees, and sighed to myself dreamily, “It’s good to be home.”
My next thought followed quickly: “It won’t be home for long.”
Changes are a’brewing. Winds will blow me to Northern Europe, in search of another home to bed down in, to get to know.
I know though, that wherever I am, I will always be searching for ‘home’.
Because home isn’t a place. Or people. It’s a person.
Despite all my cynicism, I am not ashamed to admit…
I still believe in love, and most especially, in companionship…
In wanting to spend time with someone who inspires, motivates, encourages, honours and respects you; someone who is attracted to you because you are emotionally, socially and financially independent, rather than someone who is needy, or simply a trophy.
Small edit to the paragraph above, 06 Nov 2016:
The same can also be said for true friends – for those are the ones who stick by you through thick and thin, see you at your worst and pull you out of that darkness; those who believe in you and your ability to help them, to hold them up also, and be there when they need you, just as much as they will always tell you the truth of any subject – “yes, [my] ass does look big in that dress, but that’s the point, isn’t it chicka?”
All of this is what a true companion is as well, except you get a bit more touchy-feely-ness from them; the cuddles in the early hours of the morning, and when you reach over in bed during the night, searching for that warm skin beneath your fingers. That is a much more intimate companionship, but just as acceptable on all levels.
This evening, I would like to raise a glass to all those strong, independent people out there, who are also searching for their own ‘home’, whether it’s a place, a person, or simply a state of mind.
Image: Sunset over Luxembourg, November 2016
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All rights are reserved. November 2016.