This is in response to the Daily Prompt….. ‘There’s no place like home’.
In my family I”m regarded as the gypsy….. the nomad. I’m a long way from Adelaide, South Australia, where I grew up. It wasnt always true though. When I was younger I really didnt go anywhere. I didnt do the classic Australian ‘trip to Europe’, preferring to spend my time and money playing in local bands. A job opportunity in the late 90’s took me quite suddenly to Brussels, since then I’ve been quite nomadic.
I always said I wouldnt travel unless I could spend enough time in places to understand them. Having spent years living in Brussels, Amsterdam,The Hague and rural France, I’m not sure I do understand that much more about these places. Maybe I do understand myself a bit better, but even then I might have missed the point.
Where is ‘home’? I”m confused about that. It”s in my heart, it’s my loved ones… even though they’re far away. I do sometimes feel like I’ve wandered too far and gotten lost. Hooray for the internet…. when I talk to my lover I am no longer lost.
As I move, some places do feel like home. I’ve always felt at home in London. I was born in England and London is at the heart of English history and culture. Every street has a story, and a history. I feel like I know them all, from Baker St to Carnaby St; I even know where Diagon Alley is (runs off Charing Cross Rd near Foyles).
Strangely, I’ve always felt ‘at home’ in Amsterdam. Even on my first visit I felt like I was coming home. I dont know why, I dont think I have any Dutch ancestry. I spent my first six months getting hopelessly lost. I’m programmed for Adelaide’s grid pattern streets, not circular canals that sneak up behind you.
So, what is ‘moving’ to me? Toots & The Maytals will tell you that ‘Still is still moving to me‘ and they’re right. For me, moving is a stream. It’s always moving,always changing, but it’s always still there. It follows an ancient course reflecting light that is forever new.
Ruisseau des Carmes,Figeac, France.