Today was a bit of a homesick day. I missed the feel of walking in the door and being greeted by my cats and my dog and putting on the kettle, making tea, sitting down and going through the newspaper supplements my Dad always kept for me. I missed the closeness, the familiarity, knowing where I am, where I'm going.
Sometimes I envy those still at home, those that have never moved and never had to say goodbye after a flying two day visit. To never have to arrange Christmas, birthdays, holidays months in advance, to drive a few miles down the road to see friends and family. To know right outside your window the world is as it's been your whole life, with no surprises. Just home.
And then I think to myself, what's the use? What's the use in living in this half-way world, between memories, nostalgia and the reality of the present. I'm here now, and here's where I should be. I chose to move, and then to move again, to a rather strange place where the alphabet sounds all wrong and they never rush. It isn't so bad being away from home, in fact it's pretty nice and it makes the memories sweeter still.
All there is to do, once the bout of homesickness is dispensed with, is to book a flight home and look forward to sitting in my kitchen with Napoleon trying to steal my breakfast again.
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