During my first year of university I was friends with a band called the pennys an I loved their music dearly. They had a song called home (I think) here the main chorus went ‘I just want to go home’.
It sounds much better when you’re not just reading it on a screen, I promise. And I get that you can often feel like that – when you have a bad day or when you haven’t been there for a while. But for the first time on Thursday night I felt like I was the song.
“Maybe I should go home” quickly turned into “I think I should go home” which almost immediately turned into ” I just want to go home”, and just like that, well a 20 hour plane ride later, I’m home.
And it feels calming and good but it doesn’t mean that the feeling “I just want to go home” has been met by being here. I hated that I recognised all the town names on road signs and that I was inconceivably 17000kms away from where I was just hours ago.
It feels safe to see the familiar and to have my dogs get excited about the doorbell.
So what’s left from my feeling of “i just want to go home”?
I think that as I stopped being a child, my home became where my heart was, or with whom my heart lay. My parents house will always be a safe, recollecting place of comfort and refreshment, but my home isn’t so much there anymore.
I’m not really sure if its anywhere else at the moment either.
But at least I get to share my bed with the great Picasso.