Going Home

21 Nov 2020

(written in late summer before some local lockdowns came in)


I’m going home tomorrow.  It’s not really my home, I didn’t grow up there.  I wasn’t born there.  I haven’t even lived there for any longer than a few weeks.  I do still have family there. A little distant, but in this part of the world that doesn’t really matter. The feeling is that if you’ve travelled this far, you share a love and therefore you are welcome. 


I have travelled to this place, a deep crag of Scotland, many times. As a child, as a teen, as a young adult, as a young mother, as an older mother - each time I’ve felt myself relax the closer I got to the earthy draw.  I don’t mean relax in the sense of glad to be away from the norm, but rather relax in the sense of my jigsaw pieces gathering together again.  I feel right. I feel myself. I feel home. I could look deeply into that or I could just say that it’s been 13 years of waiting and I feel excited.  I never score anything on the excited card. This time I wish there was a way to rate 10 because I’m a ten out of ten.

I’m going home and I’m going to savour every second. I hope you have a place that gives you this feeling.  If you can’t visit physically then even daydreaming can be enough to shift your thoughts. I know I will bring back a piece of rock or a pebble from home. This way I can put it beside the kettle and use it to hold down my daily list. This way I can be served that little tactile reminder that I was there and that it felt amazing. 


Keep cherishing the small stuff. 


Love from

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member.

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