Dear home,
For the longest time I felt like it was hard to be at a place I was supposed to call home. Should I be at home in two different places at once? Love both, cherish both and miss both? If I would commit for one, was I supposed to long for the other? And the same goes the other way around, honestly. While not truly belonging in either of them? Scared of feeling at home somewhere was part of what made sure that I build walls around my heart. It is sad, because coming home, no matter if it as a place, a person or something else, is one the most beautiful things.
Even though there are people who will deny it, the ache for home is something all human beings experience. Home can be a city, home ca be four walls, home can be two arms, home can be you. Whatever home is (and to me you definitely can have more than one) you have to take care of it. The beauty about a comfortable home is that is feels good to leave, but it feels even better to come back. Home should be comfortable, but not to comfortable. There should still be excited and newness, there should still be room to explore.
You can find home in music, or at least I do. It might honestly be the first place where I really dropped a piece of my heart. And at ever point where I drop a piece of my heart becomes part of home. It is part of my story and if I work hard for my path and way in life (with all the ups and all the downs), for my home, then it doesn’t matter that it is not a straight path or a perfect story. It is MY path and MY unique story. It took me some time to realise, but the most beautiful thing is accepting and loving the fact that every story is perfect because it is unique.
Sometimes home is like a burning candle. Some candles burn down perfectly and others just won’t. But no matter what, the flame still burns and the flame is still alive. You look at the flickering, reminiscing in old memories or thinking about the future, excited and nervous at the same time.
Home is scary, because home will show you parts of yourself that you never saw or that you successfully avoided (most of the time). Let’s be brutally honest, the overthinker in us is deeply scared to find and to allow whichever one of the homes you find. Questioning every little thing, but keep in mind or keep reminding yourself that everything is a perfectly imperfect part of your path. And it is a little piece of home that your carry with you wherever you go.
So home, wherever you might bring me and wherever I might take you, I’m excited for every single one of you and enchanted to find and meet every little piece of you.
“Only snails know there is no rush, when you learn to carry home with you”
(Snail’s Pace – David Alan Royster)
All my love,
Anna
Dear Anna,
I read your letter about “HOME”.
It was very interesting and it touched me deeply.
I like to write you a poem of a Dutch poet, Kees Spiering and it is called: THUIS (HOME).
Especially for you, I tried to translate this Dutch poem into English.
HOME
Like you reach a place.
Lookaround you and know
that you are at home.
A meadow, forgotten
passing dunes and a forest edge
Someone bows between you
and a party – looking
to the wine, a face
becomes his first words
what was written for you
by a hand never felt.
Like you already know this
before you saw it. You had been there
before you got there.
I hope you can understand the intention in wich the poet tries to express the feeling he gets when he is thinking and writing about HOME, exactly the same as you do.
Love,
Ed Silanoe.