It’s been two months since our farewell to India and like good vagabonds, we’ve indulged in a series of adventures – Greece, Scotland, England and now a sojourn in The Netherlands. Not knowing where our next posting is to be, we purposefully chose some time in Europe.
But now… I want to go home.
In truth, something at my core has been yearning to nest, to settle, to expend less energy on the planning and executing of a global life – just be still for a time. And be creative, be productive, be in a routine… be in one place.
“I want to go home,” emitted from my lips recently. My husband was in mild shock.
Yesterday as we strolled through the rose garden of a lovely castle, beautiful hues and heavenly scents accompanying our conversation, I asked Bruce if he regretted the time we’ve spent here. In theory, we should have gone directly to Canada where our seemingly abandoned house awaits our return. Instead we’ve hosted family, connected with my other homeland and savoured journeys down memory lane. Our first son was born and lived here and we’ve also been able to share those memories with him this visit.
To the question, Bruce replied, “No, not at all. I think it’s actually helped our transition.”
But the transition has been trying. Who am I kidding? It’s been decidedly horrible at times. Jo, my next-door neighbour during our stay in The Hague, has seen it first-hand. I have literally lain on her sofa, seeking comfort and a safe space to let my heart and soul spill forth, a blubbering fountain of tears. Any wife supporting her husband going through a career transition will understand; loss of identity and purpose is not exclusive to women.
Finally, we’ve turned a corner. We have a unified rhythm and understanding while we wait things out. Walking hand in hand through that rose garden we were doing what we’ve always done in our thirty years on ‘the road’… be ‘one’ in this journey.
Bruce elaborated on his answer.
“You know you can live here at any time. You have family, friends and a culture you love.”
I agreed. “I know, but part of my heart breaks that I may never live in Europe again. Asia, I can readily accept.”
Yes, I belong here, perhaps more at times than Canada. Yet I have to believe I have the strength, the depth and the talents, to call one place home in the world. Yet keep the rest of it in my story, my dream, my identity.
This time last year I wrote a Monday Morning Email from a lovely location in Jaipur, India. The discussion was indeed of going home and it seemed so very far away. It has come to pass, unless of course the company has other plans.
But, “Oh,” I say, “leave me in peace!”
It seems this wanderer will delight in hanging her hat – that trusty fedora will have its own peg to perch and remind of travels and tales.
Yes, still I will travel. But for once, I dream of one place to array those vestiges of us. One spot… no moving truck looming in sight.