There are moments in life when you discover what is important and what is not. I have lived in Italy for 1 year now and I miss my home. I miss my mum and the sofa chats (well cries) and my dad. I miss his strong hug, the way I feel safe in his arms. I miss my little brother, who makes fun of me and wants to play Minecraft endlessly. I miss the intelligent conversations I have with my older brother and the ridiculous silliness that is possible with my younger sister. I miss my dog, Oscar, who loves people so much you might think his tail would wag off. If I could jump on a plane and go home today I would. You see it doesn’t matter how much time goes by, or how great your life becomes. You always miss home, sometimes it is a big ache and causes great pain but sometimes it is the sound of lawn mowers that takes you back to summers at home. A smell or a sound, which transports you in a way that nothing else ever can. I have never claimed to be a great writer, but I believe that I can only explain the way this feels in words.Tears may fall endlessly but they do not have a voice. So when I feel like this I choose to write.
The problem with homesickness is that you do not always yearn for the comfortable and the familiar, but you yearn for ghosts of the past that cannot be awakened again. Holidays in caravans, on beaches and long muddy walks with the dog. These are the things I crave most, so when I return home I am disappointed to find that they are not there. Things have changed, I have changed. The way I see the world is different, better somehow. My eyes have been opened just a little more and I let more sunlight in.
Nowhere is home anymore, and yet there are many places where I feel at home. I have reached a point in my life where I must choose once more where I should go and what I should do. I thought I would only have to do this once but I believe there are many seasons in life, the most common of all is change. This word no longer scares me but excites me. I do not know what the future holds.
I love to teach, children are precious treasures. Sometimes they are annoying but treasures all the same. Being a teacher has become part of who I am and without it I am lost. I find that I do not know myself unless I have a class to teach and a classroom to teach in. This is most amusing because I vowed never to be a teacher. It turns out that I was running away from what I most needed.
God has given me a gift, so I will use it. I will never be a perfect teacher but if I work hard and love every child I teach, I will be a great teacher. It is not all of my identity but it is funny how something grows in you without you even noticing it. I love Palmi but my heart tells me it is time to move on. Come July I will be sad but excited for my new adventure. I will never forget what I learned here, because I have been shaped and molded so much that I hardly recognize myself. One day I will understand the hardships I have endured, and what they mean. For now I will appreciate the beauty of this place, for I will not return to it as soon as I want to.
To all of those brave people traversing the world I would like to tell you something. Do not be afraid of adventure but equally do not be afraid to return home. You will return slightly altered but I think you will find comfort in it all the same. An old cuddly toy from your childhood will always remain the same and it will watch you grow and thrive into an adult. But you will still love it regardless.
Returning home is not a failure, it is one moment in this great adventure we call life. Enjoy it, because it will not always be there. Live in the moment you have now, worry about everything else when you get to it. I, as an organised planner, cannot believe the words I have just written. But Italy has taught me to relax, life rarely ends up the way you want it to. It is always better than you imagine.
All my love