If you had the opportunity to live a nomadic life, traveling from place to place, would you do it? Do you need a home base? What makes a place “home” to you?
This prompt caught my attention. I am a retired military wife. We have lived several places in our marriage. Not a real gypsy style nomadic life, but close enough.
As a child I did not like watching “The Wizard of Oz”, it scared me. I don’t like flying monkeys at all… They creep me out (but, I digress). As an adult, I find I quote this movie often. Here is one of my favorite excerpts from the movie:
“Dorothy: Oh, will you help me? Can you help me?
Glinda: You don’t need to be helped any longer. You’ve always had the power to go back to Kansas.
Dorothy: I have?
Scarecrow: Then why didn’t you tell her before?
Glinda: Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She had to learn it for herself ” (Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum)
Home. That magic four letter word. You can travel the world. You can have adventures galore. Meeting new people is fascinating. Hearing different languages all around you is thrilling. You know walking down a street in a foreign country that you are the one different, you are the exception.
Seeing new views of the world is something that cannot be captured by a camera. There is an essence that thrives in places that is indescribable. It’s the smell of the air that cannot translate onto a picture. It’s the feeling of the sun or rain or wind that is different from other places in the world. That is hard to explain.
Travelling, living for extended periods in other places is rewarding. It is fun. It is a living education. It is lonely.
To be able to come home is what the heart speaks to you. Home, that place that your spirit needs.
Yes, I have travelled. I have had the wonderful opportunity to meet and live among people who did not speak my language. I would not trade one experience for anything.
What I do know is this, there is a part of you that needs home. I know I need a sense of the familiar. Home. It can be an apartment, a home, a family, or a city.
I must have several versions of home. A home base that is filled with my belongings, my pictures, my knickknacks, my clothes, my bed. That is where I live, and I am grateful for this. I also have home with my family. Their arms surrounding me, their laughter lifting my spirits. Their love of me just as I am. This home is my heart’s treasure. I love my family. They are my gifts for my heart.
I also have my hometown. I moved when I was 19, almost 40 years ago. There are times when I need to get away from the home where my belongings are, and times when, although my family is comforting and wonderful, I need to go home. I need to see the rolling hills of northwestern Pennsylvania. I need to see the green of the trees that is not duplicated in any place I have seen. I need to fill my lungs with the rancid smell of the air that is perfumed with the oil refineries that make my hometown what it is.
I may never again live in my hometown, but it will always be home. There is no place like home to me. It calls out to me, memories echo in my heart, my mind, my spirit. I can travel and live and move from place to place, but there is a place that draws me back. It is home.
Thanks for stopping by. DAF