I have this strange feeling. A little bit melancholic even. Come to think about it, it comes close to the feeling I had every time I came home from Ecuador – my favourite country in the world. Why strange? Because I realise how I feel home, but in the same time I don’t feel as if I’m at home.
I feel homesick, but I don’t know for where and when. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy to be at my hometown. How easy all of a sudden it is to meet up with good friends, just for a beer, wine, coffee, or maybe even a Baileys. The conversations are being picked up as if I’ve never been someplace else. A hug, three kisses. Light conversations, heavy conversations. Conversations with people I wish I could easily see on a daily base. Another drink. Then another hug and time to say goodbye.
Since April 2014 I have been in the Netherlands only four times. Most of them I went only for a few days. I wouldn’t call this holidays. Every time I’m here, I want to see as many people as I can and spend quality time with them. As we all know, unfortunately you can’t balance quantity and quality, which causes me to run from one side to the other, still feeling unsatisfied because there wasn’t enough time left for other friends and activities.
I’m happy to see my friends. I’m happy to see my family. I’m happy this time, I could take a few hours – literally a few hours – to feel home at home, as if I never left. Truth is, I did leave. I’m not home, my home is in another place. Not very far, but still far from here. Too far to just meet my friends for a coffee or a good meal. My friends live their lives here, I live mine in France. When we see each other it feels good, but this unsatisfied feeling keeps gnawing on me.
My cat only recognises me vaguely and my animal allergy gets hard on me every time I pet my sweetheart. Sometimes she remembers our old habits together, sometimes she walks away from me as if I’m a total stranger. I do want us to be close again, but in order to make her mine again, I would have to move back home.
In my heart, in some parts, this restless feeling I have even comes close to the passing of my grandmother. Something – someone – that was always there, so easy to acces, easy to treasure. Now gone forever. Never entirely gone though. She is still in my heart and I can relive her every time I dream away in my precious memories of our time together. But those moments only last for minutes and hours and then I have to get back to life.
The same counts for my meetings here. It only lasts for a period, sometimes short, sometimes a little longer, and then we all move back to our own lives. Far away again, out of reach.
I want everything to be easy again, but I know this won’t change. Spending time with my friends and family has become more precious than ever. An extraordinary opportunity.
