After a day of work or school, after a trip, after any large travel, one returns ‘home’. Unlocks the door and enters home. Or at least that is what others say. That you are headed home. 

Home. This word is always used so carelessly by everyone. Many do not even see the problem of using the word whilst others get shivers and every single bone refuses to make use of it. 

Why? Because in my case, people have decided to call a place my home once too often. You do not have to have moved places often, or even at all, to not feel a sense of joy or belonging to the place you are currently living at. Frankly, it is normal and nothing to be ashamed of. 

You are still finding a place to call home. Sometime, home can even be two eyes and a heartbeat. It can be the magnifying eyes of your beloved one, or even your own ones filled with healthy self-love. But it can just as much also be a place, a city you fell for some time ago and are longing for ever since. 

And sometimes, the search for a place to call home can be endless. Whenever people ask me “You are from Kleinwalsertal (= valley in Austria) , right?”, I have unknowingly made it a habit to answer with “I currently live there”. Because what does one do who does not know the answer to where he or she comes from? Apart from constantly searching?

Some people simply have their best stories found in between their passport pages. They are drawn to the feeling of an airplane lifting off the ground. The mixture of languages found in the arrivals hall is music to their ears. Some people travel endlessly to find and get to know themselves and discover potential homes. 

The only cities I have seemed to take roots in were Sydney and Toronto (see top image). Nevertheless, my quest for home has not ended. Quite the opposite. With growing age, the longing for foreign places to establish a life grows as well. Whether or not an actual home can be found somewhere is written in the stars. I guess it takes a few more adventures and travels. But I have learned something important during the process of traveling:

I stopped telling myself that I am lost. I am not.

I am on a road with no destination, with no time limit. I am just wandering with the hope to arrive at a place I like and stay there.

I am not lost. I am on my way.

But until then, I will just keep on rolling beneath these exact stars.✨

1 Comment

  1. Pingback: The Worst Part

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