Hundreds of years ago my men were settlers. People explore, they conquer, they settle. My home has not been in once piece since I was ten, but back then two houses and two Christmases had its advantages. Ever since I left Colorado, my heart has only become more divided, leaving my ‘home’ in pieces all over the world. Part of me is still living in Italy- the part that worked at the Gate with sweet Adriano and spoke to the same Italians for eight hours, the part that ate a guancia panino (pork cheek sandwich) for breakfast, and the part of me that was immersed in my love for photography. Those parts of me are a distant memory, begging on their hands and knees to come back into my life.
Sometimes California feels like my home. Five years of University, the beach, a sorority, and some of the best times of my life with my friends cannot possibly be erased.
My real home… it’s a place where I can hang out with my mom in the kitchen and see our four kitties. I can go to my dad’s house and speak about Tai Chi for hours in the warm living room. I can see my other half, my best friend, my sister, and know that she is okay. I have my houses, my cabins, more friends, and of course the Sun. Mr. Sun comes out for a whopping 300 days a year.
And now there is Edinburgh. Some place magical until I realized that the cold gloomy days of winter weren’t ending and every month seemed almost the same… maybe just three degrees colder than the last. I want to make my apartment my home, I want to buy pillows and a pretty duvet cover, a nice iron, and things to help me settle in. But is there a point if I’m going to move home anyways? I am completely jealous now of my friends who have a steady job, a home near their family (or with their family), a dog, a husband. I’m not saying I want a dog, husband, or house right now, but I’m jealous of the certainty in their lives. I’ve been feeling terribly unsettled while facing the fact that I am once again not settled. Where will I be in three months? Time will tell, and then I will tell you.