Snímek obrazovky 2019-07-18 v 21.15.36

When I started this blog, I had problems being personal enough. I thought that I couldn’t write because I didn’t know anything about, well, anything. Not that this has changed (lol), but I realized that sometimes, instead of providing the answers, you can just share the questions popping in your head. So, this post is about one of the most personal topics for me -homecomings. And about all the things I still don’t know about home.

What season did you leave?

Season after season, I keep leaving. I’ve had a series of homecomings these past years,  and was always lucky enough to have a place to return to, but each of them altered a bit. There was a different room almost every time, there were switches of countries and the seasons changed too. I often wonder about the timing. Was it the right season to leave? Had I stayed longer, would things be different now?

Who was there when you left?

And of course – people around me kept moving too. The moment somebody left the scene, someone new appeared in an absolutely unpredictable way. Our small galaxies met and collided and together we built homes. These intergalactic constellations made me feel warm and safe wherever I was. Home is people.

Are they still going to be there when you come back?

Home is people but people change. I came back to meet them, only to find out home was no longer there. And then, some people actually are gone. While we all keep following our own busy schedules, it’s important to see that I’m people, too. I’m home. But I’m not going to lie; this part is still hard for me to remember.

Does coming back feel like a relief?

Going big is often easier than going home, I wrote, and I still stand by my words. Why do I feel more comfortable flying all over the place in a metal machine than coming home? Homebase for me isn’t just the start, it’s also the finish line.

Where are you going to put all the new stuff you came back with?

Sometimes I feel like there isn’t enough space for all of me. As if my old homes were crammed with who I was before. Home is negotiating – what do I get to keep? Sometimes I’d like to come home empty handed.

Does it feel like you’re coming back in time?

 Am I losing progress? Am I falling back in the old routines?

Does it feel like you’re coming back on time?

 Am I too late? This question kept reoccurring, until I realized that you’re always too late for something and, well, fuck it.

Are you still relevant?

Being on the go often gave me the illusion of moving. But while I was standing still, the actual changes took place at home. How do I keep up when I’m only halfway there? It’s self-centric to expect you’ll be waited for. If you’re lucky enough, people carve out space for you, but there’s no press-pause button.

Did somebody water your plants?

Will home ever feel like one place again?

|2nd picture credit: @hallithbates|

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