Because “home” is not a place but a concept, I miss it even though I’m having the time of my life
written by : Alice
From almost the day we got engaged to the day we left for our 82 days in the US, we’ve lived together in a 10m-square “apartment” in Paris. I had lived there by myself for a year before Simone joined me. Except that it could get extremely cold in the winter and extremely hot in the summer, and that the “shower” got the best of my nerves a couple of time, it was great. By myself it was a palace, as a couple it was our cocoon. We never felt the need for bigger than that (Simone would have loved a bigger kitchen and me a bigger shower but that was about it).
Now, we’ve been married for 6 months, and we haven’t had our own « home » for a little over 5 months! Sure, there were places where we stayed a bit longer, sometimes by ourselves, but it isn’t the same.
I love traveling, I will do it for the rest of my life. I have the incommensurable chance to have found the love of my life in the form of a hungry-for-travel man, who I know will never find any reason to tie me to the ground or to stop me from being at least a little bit of a nomad. Even with an infant, even with a child, even with several of them. Even with a house at our name, a business we own, or any job we could have. We might calm down, we might spend months – even maybe years – at the same location, but we will travel again. And I cannot believe that we wouldn’t make up for it by taking a weekend here and there to see the beauty of what’s around the corner. I don’t want to stop traveling, he doesn’t want to, we’re good. That’s a given, that’s settled.
Even though ‘home is where the heart is’, the heart needs a home
No, what I mean is that even though ‘home is where the heart is’, the heart needs a home. A home doesn’t need to be your indefinite location, your hometown, the country where you were born or grew up, where family and friends are. No, it’s the place where the heart can rest. And your tired, beautiful, damaged, grown or growing body can settle down without a care of being misplaced. Home is where you can have the freedom to be silly, beautiful, horny, tired, sad, happy, ecstatic, sick, without a care. It’s where you don’t have to smile or where you can speak your own made-up language – made of weird noises and grunts in four different languages including « baby tongue ». I don’t mean to say that you cannot, are not able to, or shouldn’t do that anywhere else, I do, we do. But home is the place where you are free to do it at any given time without even thinking about it.
Home is where – at any given time any given day – you can scream in ecstasy or agony, where you can make noise when you walk, when you can wear your pajamas or look like a queen, where cuddling for hours is the rule, leaving the bed isn’t one and being dirty, grumpy, immature, melancholic or spinster-like is not the concern of anyone not belonging to your sanctum.
Home is Freedom
Home is freedom. And this is why even though I’m roaming the world, I miss “home”. But in less than a month we should have one back, and I cannot be more excited to be able to let my mind, body and heart rest in that place I don’t know yet.
The privilege of missing home
Although if I left a home to discover the world and learn about it, some are less fortunate. In another note, less light, less self-centered, more actual but of timeless importance, this feeling also helps to ground me to reality. To remind me that allowing people who lost their home – for any reason – the chance to find a new one is so important. Because if we, a privileged couple in good health can miss home so dearly, I cannot imagine how people who had to travel – from a home to the street as well as from a country to another – not for leisure and not by choice but in unspeakable circumstances to flee the hunger, war, poverty, misery of the place where they used to live, can feel when they’re denied the chance to get a new home. I cannot imagine how someone who’s lost everything, who cannot – for any reason – get a job, get a shelter, get psychological, physical or financial help, must feel when denied that solace.