I felt a touch of homesickness today for the first time on this trip. Not bad going, I thought, since we’ve now been away for 3 months.
Some people say that “home” is wherever their husband / wife / partner / family is. Without wishing to completely kill that romantic sentiment, let’s be honest here – it’s only partly true.
To me, home is where Bernd is. It’s also where I can:
- Sleep in own bed
- Shower in my own bathroom
- Order lunch without experiencing a failure in communications
- Experience a wide range of entertainment options on a proper sized screen (#firstworldproblems)
- Choose my outfit for the day from a wardrobe, not a packing cube
- Make my own food, including salads without fear of being poisoned
- Be with Bernd, but not always IN THE SAME TINY ROOM
- Walk with purpose, because I know where I’m going and how to get there
Of course it’s also where I have to go to work and pay the bills, responsibilities I’ve temporarily escaped – so my melancholy feelings shouldn’t last very long.