(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.
The room above the garage
A Moodscope member.