missing home

Maybe I ate too many kinder surprise easter chickens. Maybe it’s because its Easter and I am on the other side of the world to everyone who is most near and dear to me. Maybe it’s because I imagine what they will be doing today and how they will do it. Whatever the reason(s), for the first time since starting this crazy adventure in Europe I feel homesick.

There are the big and easy things to wonder about… Who will bring what to the family dinner, who will fall asleep on the couch first in a post chocolate coma, what TV will be on, what the weather is like, who found the biggest Lindt easter egg… big things that I could ask any one to retell me. But then there are the little big things, things that cannot be expressed with words because the words feel like high heels that suddenly got too tight after a long night of dancing… they seemed so good at the beginning, but now, they are painful and useless and you need to get rid of them fast and find some cold soft grass. (Sorry, I’m back on track now) So what are those little big things: How Easter smelt this year, realising a little bit more what Jesus did, does and will do, a hug from someone who hugged you when your whole tiny baby body used to fit in their arms, and then that moment that I have to disappear for a bit, maybe read a magazine or go for a little walk or catch up on some facebook admin because the press of people’s conversations overwhelms me a bit.

But actually this is all made up. It is a fanciful creation of what I might hope would happen today. It’s some strange mixture of many Easters and Christmases and family time. The truth is that today my nuclear family of four (and their respective partners and spouses) is spread out over three continents and four cities. There will be no big family dinner that I am missing. No Easter egg hunt that I am hoping for. So why imagine this. Why miss what is not happening anyways. It’s not true. If I was home today, it would not be the way that I have imagined it. So, why bother?

Well, I suppose missing home is not always about missing out on events or places. It’s about what those events and places evoke in your heart. Its like hashtag on a tweet or maybe a name on a subfolder, or an underlined blue word in blog that opens up a whole bunch of other things. It is not Easter itself that makes me miss my family, but Easter holds memories that are connected to other memories which are connected to other memories which are connected to other memories… So, dear adventurous family spread over three continents and four cities… I miss you and am sending you some (virtual) easter eggs and some real love.

And in the meantime I found this video which feels like it was made a million years ago, but made me smile anyways. I hope it does to you too 🙂

 

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