Corrections

Am I finally ready to write this article I have been wanting to write for so long? Maybe.

Or maybe I’ll have to write it again someday.

Because writing about home is one of the most difficult things I have done recently.

It’s so confusing, it seems so clear but it’s such a vague notion at the same time.

Home… According to the dictionary, home is “a dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; an environment offering security and happiness; a valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin; the place where one was born or has lived for a long time”.

According to what someone said one day, “home is where the heart is”.

And according to me, home now that I’ve left what I thought it was is something I’m not able to define anymore.

Before, it was clear to me.

Before, home was that country in the heart of Europe, where the weather is not always perfect but the people the people are trustworthy and life quite easy.

It was that small town lost among the mountains with all the memories that grew up in its straight and parallel streets.

It was that nice flat I had always lived in, the living room where I felt so good slumped in the sofa, and my room where all my greatest dreams and projects were born.

But one day I moved out, without even knowing it would be forever.

I really thought I would only go away for a couple of months, discover another country, make some nice experiences, and then go back “home” and find everything I had left behind exactly as they were before.

And I was wrong.

I was terribly wrong.

I went away innocently, and I got lost.

Now I’m caught in the middle, between these two countries I love one as much as the other, with in my heart the impression that, wherever I go, something will always be missing since I can’t live in the two of them at the same time.

Things have changed.

Now, when I go back to Switzerland, I don’t feel at home anymore, not totally.

My place is not really my place anymore; it has changed as much as I have.

The people have changed, too.

It’s normal, they’ve always been changing, but I missed a part of this evolution and now I feel like I’m out of everything.

I don’t even understand my country as well as I did before anymore.

At the same time, I’ve been living in Spain for one year and a half and I can almost start to consider it as my “home” now.

Still, this country is not mine, this city neither, though I know it pretty well by now and feel safe and happy here.

I should probably feel like I have two “homes”, and I would be happy about it. But I don’t.

I feel like I have none.

I suppose it’s normal, but now that I have lived in two countries, two cities, I have the impression that I don’t belong in any of them.

My heart is split between here and there.

It’s a strange feeling, home as always been the most important thing for me, my refuge, but now I don’t really have one anymore and I feel like “home” for me could be almost anywhere around the world.

I’m wondering which the place where I’m going to land and settle down in forever is.

I even wonder if it exists, if I will ever feel home somewhere again… I don’t know why all this appeared so clear to me today.

I tried to write this article many times before, and I was never able to put words on my feelings and give them a sense.

Apparently, today is the day! I feel lucky.

I would love to know if some of you have ever lived a similar experience, and what you all think about this 