Lost in a spiral of words, sentences splashed together and stories in despair. No beginning. No ending. Just words, ideas and feelings lingering around, waiting to set foot on paper or take part in the endless love affair of life.
From nothing to something. From thin air into reality.
From far away to a place called home.
It is a strange thing to come home. It’s like getting lost while knowing where you are. Coming back home is part of the journey as much as leaving, yet people don’t talk about it with the same sense of curiosity and adventure. In reality, the journey never stops. Looking at the ordinary with new eyes suddenly opens new doors, new options and a new way of living. Me isn’t the same me from when I left. Me isn’t the same me from yesterday. Slowly I move along with time making a distinction between what is important to me instead of simply urgent, a distinction that easily gets lost in between the storylines of life.
Am I happy being back home? Yes I am. Would I be happy to leave again? Immediately! For now I am finding joy in the little luxuries of life. Baking my own bread, watching the sun go down, being able to go to the shop and choose what I want to buy, riding my new old bike to work, moving into a new apartment and sitting down on a sofa. Believe me, don’t underestimate the luxury of having a sofa! That’s something we discovered being on the road for a year, sofas are hard to come by! Have I felt sad and lonely? Obviously! Suddenly you’ve seen your friends, found a job, told your family about your adventures and moved to your new place and all that is left is endless time. Time filled with thoughts, fears and dreams. Emptiness ready for a new start. At times, a difficult start.
Things like being home, happiness and pain aren’t static. Nothing really is. They’re simply life’s way of showing you who you are, who you can be and who you want to be. Don’t try to be beautiful like somebody else, be beautiful as you!