“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” — Maya Angelou. At this stage, we are nomads and it is crazy to realise that in two days, we will have been back in Australia for a whole month. In some ways it feels like more than that and in other ways, it feels like we are on a holiday and will be returning to France next week. We have experienced the usual highs and lows of leaving a country, apartment and friends and arriving in the next place. Even though Australia is our home country, it has been twenty one years and so many cities, apartments, jobs and people have passed by. Some cities and experiences have been wonderful and others have been a time of endurance.
So here we are and we are in our fourth apartment, kindly rented to us by a friend and a haven of blue and white near a beach. We both brought a coffee cup with us as if holding on to some kind of identity of who we are and what has past. To be honest, we are missing our stuff and feel adrift and displaced. We know this is temporary but it is like being flotsam on the water with nothing to grab hold of.
As the new year is around the corner, we wait in hope for a place to come on the market that provides a home.
