Where is my home?
I've always thought that home was where the heart is. It's part of the reason why I've never felt uncomfortable moving around, living in different countries and cultures and having to learn umpteen languages along the way. I always considered that so long as I was with the people I loved it didn't matter where I was.
That was until I spent nine glorious month in Stockholm, Sweden. It's true that there were a couple of hard months intermingled with those nine months, but on the whole I really love Stockholm. So now I find myself pining for Stockholm and the life I had there, even though I moved to where I am now to be closer to my family trying to get over a period of depression. This turn around makes me face other questions: Do I just miss Stockholm because I hadn't got bored of it? Would I have become bored and purposely there eventually like all the other times in all the other countries? Or is it that some part of me, no matter how incredibly small, longs to be back with my fellow vikings?
I did feel unbelievably at home with my swedish friends, learning the language and living the wonderful cosmopolitan lifestyle of a city dweller. Even though I earned my money cleaning up the dust and dirt of other people in apartment stairwells and offices. But what does it matter if you can be in the european version of New York City, in the scandanavian BIG APPLE, sometimes called the Venice of the north.
I mean there is no way on gods good earth that I'm ever going to have the opportunity of living in New York, at least not without a miracle. But I'll always be able to go back to that wonderful city, the saviour of my heart and soul (not literally!). The city was the one thing that made me stay even after I got my heart brutally ripped to shreds, but lets not dwell on the bad... rather lets be happy and joyful!
I can draw no conclusions, other than the fact that I will always love my darling Stockholm and my next aim is to find a man who mirrors that wonderful city!
That was until I spent nine glorious month in Stockholm, Sweden. It's true that there were a couple of hard months intermingled with those nine months, but on the whole I really love Stockholm. So now I find myself pining for Stockholm and the life I had there, even though I moved to where I am now to be closer to my family trying to get over a period of depression. This turn around makes me face other questions: Do I just miss Stockholm because I hadn't got bored of it? Would I have become bored and purposely there eventually like all the other times in all the other countries? Or is it that some part of me, no matter how incredibly small, longs to be back with my fellow vikings?
I did feel unbelievably at home with my swedish friends, learning the language and living the wonderful cosmopolitan lifestyle of a city dweller. Even though I earned my money cleaning up the dust and dirt of other people in apartment stairwells and offices. But what does it matter if you can be in the european version of New York City, in the scandanavian BIG APPLE, sometimes called the Venice of the north.
I mean there is no way on gods good earth that I'm ever going to have the opportunity of living in New York, at least not without a miracle. But I'll always be able to go back to that wonderful city, the saviour of my heart and soul (not literally!). The city was the one thing that made me stay even after I got my heart brutally ripped to shreds, but lets not dwell on the bad... rather lets be happy and joyful!
I can draw no conclusions, other than the fact that I will always love my darling Stockholm and my next aim is to find a man who mirrors that wonderful city!
Comments