h is for home
If home is where the heart
is, my home is often 2000km north of my body.
It’s sometimes split between
two or more countries and mostly between 3 or more states.
It moves like the tide and
chases the cycle of the moon.
All at once, it’s cold,
warm, humid, windy, four seasons in one day and summer all year round.
Home smells like mum’s
cooking. It sounds like my beb singing in the shower. It tastes like tea and
home made bread in my best friend’s company. It feels like my family (blood or
otherwise) group hugging in the midst of chaos.
Home is both the most elusive
and most immediate phenomenon I’ve ever known. It can mean sleeping on a yoga
mat on the front deck, having to wear two pairs of socks with my boots, always
being up for the sunrise or always admiring the sunset. It’s precious. It’s
transitional. It’s the place I feel comfortable enough to light salt candles
and have groove out to Nick Cave.
Home.
It could be a house,
apartment, tent, van, tepee, or a combination of all of the above. It might be
idyllically in the country or excitingly in the city. But the materiality of it
doesn’t really matter, so long as there’s love and laughter there.
Home
The greatest place in the
universe and, luckily, a place I can get to anywhere and everywhere.
Eddie Sharpe sure knows his
shit when he sings his song of Home.
There aren’t many words I
could agree with more (or that I love to repeat as often): home is wherever I’m
with you.
BLESS X
