Tales of Two Cities
Thirstday is my "Call-The-(Grand)Parents" day this term. This is my one day when I call everyone home to check on them and to report about my well being. Don't take me wrong - I would love to talk with them every day, for several hours if possible, but 1) neither of us have the time to do so and 2) our life are not that exciting at all so there is not much going on day-to-day. But this is not the point.
The point it's that the more I stay here, in England, the more I get to appreciate my home-town. I get to appreciate the flat where I grew up and spent all of my life before moving in England - the warm, welcoming colours, the beautiful use of real, natural materials like wood and marble, the soft sounds of lace curtains and nice tablecloths. I appreciate all the little details that my Mom place around the house to make it more welcoming, the very organised way of cooking that my Grandma has and the fact that there is always someone at home - it's never empty and god-forbid - lonely. I got to appreciate everything that makes a house - home. And I miss this more than I could ever expected.
For the past few weeks I've been having those flashbacks of pictures from home. Not just the apartment - the nearby park, the streets, the neighborhood and the town itself. When I'm falling asleep I see images of places I barely remember ever going to or I see myself coming back from primary school and remembering the way everything was back then, 14 years ago.
You can say I'm homesick and you probably won't be far from the truth. Especially now, when the perspective of going back home no earlier than next Christmas is getting more and more real. But I think that I'm just getting to know myself a little better and I'm on a journey towards myself. That's way my consciousness is sending me to my favourite places.
Or maybe I'm just homesick.
You can't get lost if you don't know where you're going...
