Day 6: I really wanted to get a photo that showed the heat in Masterton but alas I couldn't see anyone with ice blocks...
Day 7
I was in the car today heading back from Solway show grounds. I said to my mother that I wanted nothing more than to get back to Wellington. As my keen blog followers would know then I’m currently in the Wairarapa because of horse riding however I live in Wellington. My mother always refers to it as a ‘split lifestyle’ it annoys me intensely when she says that but to my frustration I’ve discovered that I too often use that very phrase when I’m talking to people about horse riding. Having said that if I’m talking to someone in Wellington the Wairarapa very rarely gets a mention. It’s so incredibly rare that only those who are especially close to me actually know that I horse ride. The point of this little anecdote is to say that for some unknown reason I’m dying to get back to Wellington. I can’t quite figure out why. I have everything that I need in the Wairarapa; food, shelter, warmth (an almost uncomfortable amount of that) and family. The UN would say that I’m ‘sweet as’. But there’s this yearning in my heart for Wellington. It’s my home. In the Wairarapa I’m just in a house but in Wellington it’s a home. Here comes the curly question what is it that turns a small patch of dirt into a home?
As I always do I looked on the internet to see if my question could be simply answered with a little bit of help from Mr Google (of course that would end up meaning that the majority of this blog post is plagiarised). To my horror Google gave me a list of fifteen definitions. I didn’t particularly feel like reading all of them because I’m lazy so it looks like I’ll have to search deep in my own mind for that Number One Statement (from Statistics NZ) “A home is a permanent place of inhabitation.”
When I read this statement then I automatically think of Gypsies. They travel around the countryside from place to place. You can’t say that they don’t have a home because they do it’s the crazy caravans which they live in it’s just you can’t ever find them in the same place. That would cause mayhem for the stats department. There’s no way to track these people. It’s part of the reason why gypsies are so ‘go with the flow like’. They have to be because the one thing that is so constant in all of our lives constantly changes for them. A home can change often yet stay the same. Even I’m confused by that statement.
Number Two Statement “Having somewhere to live is a home, having someone to come home to is a family.”
I feel that this statement says more about the nature of family than the nature of a home. We all know that ‘families are the most important’ and blah de blah blah. But I disagree with the idea that a home is merely somewhere to live. In many ways (please don’t kill me for saying this) I don’t believe that all homeless people are without a home. Granted they all don’t have the same place to sleep every night and every day is a stressful struggle to survive. In America there are more than 1 million children who are homeless and go to school. It’s a terrible problem I know. I still don’t deem them homeless they’re houseless. They don’t have a house. A home is all about a sense of place. We’re all struggling through life in a speed driven society feeling like we’re just one of the masses. At least that’s how the big picture person always sees it. You’re just one of the billion. If you die it isn’t going to change the world. Big picture people are flawed. They don’t see the incredibly important specifics. If you zoom in on those billion people then you’ll eventually get to the bus driver who appreciates that you say thank you, your mother who never gets flowers but knows that you’ll grow her a garden if she wanted one and that friend who you can laugh for hours about nothing with. It’s with these people that you fit neatly into society. You’re a jigsaw puzzle piece and without you the picture on the pieces around you wouldn’t quite be complete. The problem with our system of society is that everything is so black and white. Your address is your place in society. We’re all neatly ordered by the department of statistics when it does the census. Life doesn’t work like that. A homeless person can’t fill in the address box on a census form. That often means that they feel lost and without a place in life. It isn’t true. They have a home in life. It’s in between the people who are around them. It isn’t something concrete or something that the government can charge them taxes over. This home comes from the connections which surround the individual. The home comes from their family. Home and family make up an old married couple. I feel that if you have a family then there’s no way that you can’t have a home. You have a definite place thanks to those people around you.
Number Three Statement: “A home is somewhere you can relax. Put your feet up and enjoy an ice cold beer.”
Whenever I’m away from home there’s always this intrinsic feeling of worry. I can’t walk around in my fat pants without judgement and I most certainly can’t have cereal for dinner. There’s always someone tut tut tutting and making sure that you’re on your best behaviour. It makes life far more intense. A home is a place where you can go with the knowledge that everything is just so. At home (in Wellington) I can walk around my house in the dark. I know where everything is whether it’s where the stairs end or where the dining table begins. I just have this incredible familiarity with every little bit of it. It is that familiarity which means that I don’t have to think. Those basic functions (eg sight) become obsolete. Life is just simple. That’s really what I think a home is all about. Being able to be ‘you’ in all of your absolute absurdity. It’s wonderful. I miss being my crazy kooky self to the max (singing glee mash ups at the top of my lungs while making a terrible mess in the kitchen, there is something reassuring about mess.) With that I think that I’ve discovered the source of my yearning. I miss the absolute freedom.
3 Good Things
*Foxtrot coming to the call… Although that is because he has lost his friend so he’s completely alone at the moment. He’s a horse without a herd…
*Sleep… I’ve been lacking that over the last few days
*Finally the weather got a little bit colder… A weird thing to say in summer I know but a little bit of cold is a relief.
After Dinner Mint: Is homesickness when you miss your family or when you miss the freedoms that your home offers? Perhaps another blog post…
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