Where is home for you? Go. Ten Minutes
Thursday, June 03, 2010
I started to try to answer this before and was interrupted by a friend causing the phone in my pocket to have a hissy fit which in turn caused me to jump. I said, technically home is here, in this room, sitting in the same room that I’ve lived in for the last 12 years, although gratefully the banner of half glow-in-the-dark shoes and little kitties is finally gone.
And yet, in Mexico, after returning to our base camp, the Gateway, after quite a week in another area about 4 hours away, people were singing something about being home.
In Nicaragua, whenever we left for a weekend and returned to sit on that familiar porch outside the dorms, it felt like coming home. One evening after a crazy day of travelling to the far corners of a volcanic [island] and back, I laid in my bed and noted how glad I was that we had made it home before curfew. I said, "I guess that’s what this place is".
I have to admit, I’m a little homesick for El Puente, for a foreign land that’s not my own. Whenever we spoke of home home, it always meant here, wherever we came from, and I’m grateful and glad to be home, but I think I have more than one place now that that word could refer to. That word, just like so many others, has different levels and meanings and connotations and I don’t think that’s bad.