How do you feel when you return home after a long visit? A colleague of mine referred to it as ‘heart-lag’. This week I’m taking five minutes with the Five Minute Friday #fmfparty gang to write unedited on a theme sent out by Kate Motaung. The word-prompt today is VISIT.
(You can join in too – here’s how.)
I sit in the strangeness of being home again. As I wake, jet-lagged and in a netherworld of dreams and dreariness, I could still reach out in my minds-eye and take his hand. He’s only hours away. But miles and miles away.
My eyes squinch and focus on the friendly familiar, but I don’t welcome the sight. I long again for the freshness of the views I’ve just gazed upon. The colours were different there. The smells, the sights. I’m so disorientated, I look to the doorway, and expect him to walk through – two weeks of closeness, and yet it’s not going to happen. The sea separates us now.
What do I have left? A well-worn path. Clothes and shoes so comfortable that they don’t chafe. The culture I know, which is invisible to me, but into which I fit so securely. I’m home, and the walls of home wrap me warm. I still feel lonely here. I still long for the wild beyond, the strange and new.
But I do belong here. This is the gift of my life, my own place.
I carry in my heart the vista of the visit. But I journey from here in the healing of home.