Although the sun has finally come out after more endless rain I find myself sitting here thinking of Britain and suddenly I want to go home. I know it’s easy to wear rose-tinted glasses and only think of the positive but it’s more than that. It’s a strange thing, the feeling of home. What is it exactly? Is it the familiar? Is it the sense of family? Or friends? It feels like some sort of pull, some inner voice whispering “come home, come home”.
It’s certainly unsettling, I know that much. It’s a beautiful day here, everything’s good but there’s something pulling me. The thought of a British springtime, of cosy pubs and cafés, country walks and cups of tea. Homesickness can paralyse you and stop you in your tracks.
I should be used to it. This is the sixth country that I’ve called “home” but I still feel displaced albeit through my own choice. I feel like I’m waiting, waiting, waiting. For what? To go home? I don’t know. I suppose this is a common thing amongst people living abroad, although funnily enough if you search on the internet for “homesickness” most information is based around students away at college. As I remember back then I only felt excitement not homesickness.
Maybe that is the key. Maybe living abroad has lost its excitement, its wonder of new and different places and cultures. Maybe I’ve just become jaded in my old age! Or maybe rural France is just not cutting the (dijon) mustard any more! Who knows? The feeling will go in a couple of hours. It always does. But for now I will sit and dream of cups of tea, the Union Jack, country pubs and victoria sponge cake………
What about you? Do you ever feel homesick? Are you a stranger in a strange land like I have been most my adult life? I’d love to know….