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Another home

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Beach Summer 2017

Because of my job and everything I like to do, I find I’m always on the go. Always on the train, in a car, moving somewhere, whether it’s within England to London or to the north or to my real home in the south west, or further afield. In movement, I find peace. I’ve heard of writers who ride the subway to the end of the line and then get on another train and head back to the other end, just so they can write. Is it because of the act of moving, of being in no fixed space in the world, and if the body is moving then maybe the thoughts are too? Something moves in me, a flow is easier. Actually, I believe a lot of the joy I get from exploring new countries isn’t just from everything the country brings to me, but also from being on the go. And so I do this in everything. I crave to be moving, whether my own body through long walks, through dance or running, or from the world moving around me. Of course it’s good to stop too, to focus on the breath and where I am, but once it’s time to move again, it’s time to go.

So being everywhere at once, and nowhere for long, means I have a lot of homes everywhere, both in my home country and elsewhere in the world. And I have another now, I’m happy to now say.

As soon as I walked into the house, I could feel a story waiting to be written. But it was walking to the beach, just a few hundred metres away, where I found somewhere else waiting for me. It was a hot day, blue skies, where an estuary path stretched down to the sea, the longest and whitest beach I’ve ever known pulling in front of me. And so empty, hardly a soul there. I didn’t just see myself there at the time, but many ‘me’s, stretching out into the future. I could see myself sitting down here, with others, on my own. I knew how far this tide came in and how far away it stretched, and the beach it would uncover and envelop, and bring out again. The shapes it would curve in the wind, the way the birds landed. There was so much to discover. It felt like the beach belonged to me, in that moment, and I knew then for many moments to come. It doesn’t have to be owned by me in name in order for me to belong to it, and it to me. It was just home. A new home.

 

One Response

  1. Jane Murguia
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    You have a way with words. Beautiful. Keep writing.
    Jane Murguia recently posted…Matched betting for full time Mums – this is NOT gambling!My Profile

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