Freya Elise

We spend most of our time in a home of sorts; though geographical placement isn’t always homely. The idea of a home comes along with the pleasure of nostalgia, and sometimes the pain of longing. Longing to either be back in a time that’s long past or be as far away from it as possible. Home: its a strange one, isn’t it?  

First we must define what feeling at home really means, and how on earth we’ll ever find that place. Has home ever been a place, is it the people around you? Or is it the comfort of having your own space, and the safety in knowing every inch and crack in detail? When you’re young, home is so small; it’s the building which your family lives within, the place that you’ve always known. But as you grow your horizons expand and home becomes much bigger, interchangeable, and, more often than not, a choice. Your connections still remain in the place you grew up, but you’ve experienced more and perhaps come to realise that you never really fit into that place. Do you remember the first time you went to a new city or town or country and felt that rush of adrenaline and pull from a place that houses people like you? You could have lived your whole life and never found this place, but now you have it’s impossible to go back. Feeling connected to a place has this deep indescribable warmth, though it’s strange feeling at home in a place you didn’t grow up in. The ties from these places hold you tight no matter how far you travel.  

I get the pull of home often, but it’s not quite as simple as coming back to my family’s  house. As I’ve grown, I’ve moved, and people have moved, and I’m constantly met with tugs in opposite directions. I’m tied to places by my family, my partner, their family, friends who’ve moved far from where we grew up and friends who stayed.  

I keep theses strings tied tight and I appreciate them; but how can I possibly combine them all to find one place?  

Nature has this brilliant way of creating patterns, and making sense of why our veins, and tree branches, and rivers, and lightning all have visual similarities. The correlation is the connection. It feels like a message, a sign that all of this is how it’s meant to be, like we’re all connected, like it’s all okay. No matter where we venture the rivers will follow bringing along memories of places that are much too far to be thinking about. It’s like you never left and no matter how content you are, part of you still wonder “What’s it like there?”. 

It’s strange home, this earth, the people and places we’ve grown to associate that word with. It can become overwhelming: I’d like to go wherever the tide takes me, but it’s pulling in so many directions I fear I’ll be thrown around with no direction. Or the pressure will erupt and I’ll sink to the very depths of all that I don’t quite understand. I’m not certain where I’m meant to be. Have I found it yet? Will I ever?  

Perhaps home is neither one thing nor another. It’s a constant shifting tide with webs of rivers reaching, holding onto every loose tie. It feels as though home is this constant tug from those you love who you don’t see enough. It’s all of these strings keeping us attached while far away, keeping us connected. It’s this mess of wires and convoluted links that make up our veins. 

This is our home and, like the wind, it’s always with us; keeping hold of the loose ties, & never ever letting them go.

Words: Freya Elise, Storehouse Content Team, @freyaelise

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