23 January 2013

PROMPT: The Search For Home

I haven’t had much to write lately. My days have been pretty much the same with good moments and not so good ones. With hard work and moments of rest. But today I decided to take a few minutes to write something here. The subject, something I am fond of writing, “Home”. But mainly triggered by a journal prompt I get in my emails. I’ll try writing something different next time.

The Search For Home

As children we roam in our world as if it has no limits. No oceans to swim, no streets to cross, no fences to stop us. We climb, we reach, we run, and do all we can to be where we want to be. We search for a place we don’t really know where it is. And we don’t understand its name until we are old and the boundaries of our physical world seem more evident. We can’t climb, run or fly in our mind like we used to. And suddenly that search for the place we wanted to be seems impossible. It’s one of those things humans search for the most. We search for a place where we belong as much as we search for people who accept us for all we are.

Home is a concept that as children doesn't mean much to us. Wherever we want to be and we are allowed to be, is home. As adults, it is but a place where we are accepted and everything makes sense. We don’t feel out of place, we don’t question why things are the way they are. We don’t feel the need to run away, but to grip yourself onto it with all your strength. Home, is indeed, where the heart is. Whether in a cave, by a lake, in the city or up in the air. It’s our biggest quest; more than someone to love, more than money, more than the perfect job. All those things don’t matter if you feel out of place.

I came from the sun. I came from an ardent, warm, sunny land. And as a child, I always stared up into the sky, and I knew home was out there, somewhere far. And in my childish fantasies I dreamed of going home. I didn't know where it was. For a moment I thought it was in the stars. That I was just an alien, unjustly cast out of my home. Unfair, as there was no way I could return. So I decided to settle and just live life where I was, even though it wasn't where I wanted to be. Although my freedom was very homelike, the sense of belonging was never there. My imagination took me places far away. And I stared into the pictures of an Atlas trying to comprehend why I was born so far away from home. I was born in a cold land and raised in the sun. But my body knew, my soul comprehended, it was in that four year old girl’s memories where the clues to home awaited. Dormant, until that cold wind kissed my cheeks.

And I found a dream and I found a love, and they somehow, led me home. Away from the sun and the colorful skies, in a cold and grey land my heart became the warmest, I was alive. The reasons for us to be born so far from home are perhaps too many to count. I like to believe that is our goal, to find it, and celebrate the rest of our years in it. I am home, and that is all that matters somehow.
Have you found home?
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