It is funny how now that I’m away, I’ve started to wonder about home. To me, home is not one place, city, or country (not yet, maybe? 😉 ). It has not been for a long time.
… hearing my sister’s voice
… the smell of my flat
… driving my car along a well-knoenwn route and singing along to the music, loudly
… the way my mum is standing in the door waving happily whenever I come home and park my car in front of the house
… a cat on my feet when I sleep
… hearing friends tell stories and seeing the familiar places they’re talking about and we know in my head
… the way my dad hugs me
… sharing good wine on my balcony with a friend and enjoying the astonishing view, no words needed
… cycling along the river and stopping for a swim whenever I feel like it
… seeing the sun set on the lake which gives me peace
… hearing and using the English language.
.. an armchair in a bookshop, and the smell of books
… calling my Italian friend and reminiscing silly childhood adventures
… coming into work and knowing who to sit next to in the break and who to talk shop with
… the welcoming presence in some cities