Hungry for Home
Being amongst lots of people can feel overwhelming to me. My ears can’t take it; my energy feels invaded – sometimes even violated – and I seem powerless to do anything about it.
I’ve spent much of the past year in a blissful solitude of sorts; a delicious, peaceful silence. Saying ‘no’ to almost everything. It felt powerful. It needed to be done. Practiced.
But now, I am ready for something different. It is September, yet I feel like I’m awakening from Winter.
I felt inspired to come to my new favourite pub and do some writing. I’ve just finished my beer, and I sit for a moment, taking in the mellow background music. The sound of people talking all around me feels soothing; there is a strange comfort in it. I immerse myself fully in it all.
I have a sense of accomplishment, of completion. I’m about to leave, but part of me doesn’t want to. I’m done, but I want more. I’m finished here, but I’m not ready to return to the sanctuary of my home.
I had dinner before I came here. It was delicious and satisfying. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like… enough.
A thought appears clearly in my head.
What am I hungry for?
Whatever it is, I won’t find it here. Not even in the bottom of another tipple of this glorious craft beer – no matter how tasty it is.
I leave, with the slightest sense of restlessness in my core; it’s almost like I will miss these people I don’t even know.
As I walk in the dusk, I see the sun set – in its own time.
The church bells sound friendly and inviting – even though I don’t go to mass.
The cool breeze feels refreshing, and somehow replaces the warm embrace of people’s presence.
A gentle smile from a stranger comes in response to my own.
Again, that increasingly familiar tingle of aliveness washes over me.
And I realise it is in all those moments, that I am already home.