To quote Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz." I was musing a few days ago about what constitutes "home," and that the cliches "you can't go home again" and "home is where the heart is" are actually quite true.
A few years ago I returned to my hometown of New Vernon, New Jersey (USA) for the funeral of my mother. None of my family lives there any longer, but we continue to know many people there with whom my siblings and I grew up. I hadn't been back in many, many years. It was interesting to see what was the same, what had changed. Of course I drove past our two former houses and my primary school, Harding Township. There was the history of a connection, but it didn't feel like "home" at all any longer. It was about memories.
And then last year on my annual trip to California I found myself using more and more kiwi words, and being affronted by aggressive upselling/cross-selling retail efforts that I wouldn't have been bothered by previously. I didn't even drive past my home of sixteen years in Manhattan Beach--it just wasn't "home" any longer. Seems I've moved on.
This is interesting to me because I've always had connections to certain places, homes or not. I feel the power of mountains, almost a spiritual connection at times. There are people who feel that home is where they lay their heads or hang their hats. I am not one of those. I am grounded in and by places, the earth and my nest.
Struan Farm in Piopio is now my home on a number of different levels. I knew this (obviously..), but hadn't had a chance to think it through, I've been so busy gardening and feeding pet lambs. So there you are.
Comments