My Soul Is Yearning for the Simplicity of My Childhood Home
I crave the community I once had
I’m rudderless and drifting with no place to call home. Because home is more than just mortar and bricks; it’s a place where we feel welcome. Somewhere we belong. Air that emanates acceptance irrespective of the mould from which we are cut.
My husband is my emotional home. But I still crave a geographical and spiritual home. Somewhere to unpack my things, knowing they may not be boxed up again for several years. Such a novelty for me. I’ve lived a life of packing and moving.
Maybe it’s the nomad within my heart that leaves me feeling so unsettled. I’ve shape-shifted through an undecipherable number of houses over the years. Perhaps each move has been a metaphorical shedding of my skin. But this transience is tiring. And I find myself hankering for the remote coastline in the north-west of Scotland, where I spent several years of my childhood.
Is it possible to be homesick for somewhere that’s not been home for over 25 years?
Here in my temporary home in Ireland, my husband and I often talk about where we will settle. My heart belongs in Scotland, although we are open to other countries. I feel a pull. An invisible tug at my soul to reacquaint myself with the Scottish hills and shoreline…
