Home.

 

May 26th, 2016

A lot of people call the place where they're living their home. For me this is not possibly. I can't exactly tell where "home" is for me. It's the house where I spent my early childhood, the house I am currently living in with my mom and her partner which is placed just a few streets away from my first "home". But "home" is also the apartment on the eighth floor in the brazilian city Londrina where my hostfamily lives. "Home" is the caravan where we spent our holidays in foreign countries in, it's  a kothe (that's how we call some of our tents at the scouts) and all the places where I slept under the wide open sky.

But "home" is not just all the places I visited and left pieces of my heart in, but also imaginary places like Hogwarts where I experienced countless adventures with Harry, Ron and Hermione. And so I did in Alagäsia with Eragorn and Saphira, "home" is the numerous books on my shelf and the ones I lent from libraries, friends and family. It's the places and stories I make up in my head, the beautiful and the ugly ones that I never share.

Right now "home" is this Little House in Þingeyri, a small town in the westfjords of Iceland. I am staying here as a volunteer, working at a coffeehouse and enjoying time with new made friends.

So it's true what people say, "home" really is where your heart is. For some of us this might be a special place or a special person. For others, including me, it's numerous places and people all over the world. That is in many ways a good thing, on the other side I never really feel at home anywhere for I am always missing a part of my "home".