Home is where you go to hide, where you feel safe and part of. Some of us take forever to feel at home, to find a place that guarantees all the above.
When I arrived at San Francisco I felt finally at home. But finding a real home for myself is taking way long. I have yet to feel attached to a place that makes me feel like it’s mine, even if it’s temporary. Maybe that’s the problem, I tend to see everything as temporary so I don’t commit to a home, or anything else completely. Attachment has taught me “pain.” The pain of having to let go and having to say goodbye and I’m not too good at it.
Thinking about a place or a relationship as forever makes me choke and want to run. Maybe this time round I’ll be able to make a new real home. That place I can commit to because it belongs to a dear friend this time. This new home I’m moving to is full of memories of my friend and this will ease the move. It will be her place but I will be living in it. I will feel embraced and safe because I will feel her presence in every spot of the house.
Knowing that it’s her place and always will be, makes committing to it less tragic. The house is in the suburbs where the weather is always great and will have my beloved pool. I will be able to run, work out and find a space to draw, write and play. However great this move is going to be, change is hard for me even if it’s for the better. It’s jumping into the unknown and starting new routines that I find hard too.
I will get used to it in time and won’t look back. A clean slate, a new home, a new life. What can go wrong?Life can go wrong, but why anticipate?
Is finding a home hard for you too?