“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”
When I’m somewhere over the rainbow, trying to sniff out food that could pass as something edible, or locate a toilet that resembles a normal toilet, there are a few things I’m fairly certain I’ll miss:
- Saturday morning tea and peanut butter toast: though it’s 99% possible rich European pastries will fill the void.
- My moccasin slippers: I live in these things, but have been told they aren’t a necessary item on my already overcrowded packing list.
- My job and coworkers: spending 8 hours each work day at a job I love with great people is something I’ll admit to taking for granted. It and they will be missed.
- Home cooked meals: I’m sure we’ll both return 20 pounds heavier, so it’s not a matter of starving. It’s the sometimes mundane ritual of cooking an evening meal and putting our feet up to watch Breaking Bad that is a routine I know I’ll miss.
- Snow: for the 8 months of “winter” in Canada, I constantly curse the snow and swear up and down that I wasn’t meant to be born north of the 49th. That said, this will be my first snow-less Christmas EVER (shortly after which, we’ll be returning to Canada, at which point I can resume my lifetime grudge against the cold).
- Wide open spaces without people, vehicles, or noise: from what I hear, these can be hard to find in Europe and something we are used to seeking out on weekends in the Canadian rocky mountains. Bringing my earplugs!
- My cat Davey: Tyler’s parents have agreed to feed him kibble and scoop his poop THE ENTIRE 4 MONTHS! They are not so sure about the idea of getting him on Skype to visit with us…I’ve got some convincing to do.
- Home and its comforts: cranking the heat up all the way when I’m chilly, playing Wii in my short shorts unselfconsciously, the excellent water pressure of my shower, the dip in my mattress where I sleep, the closet that holds my sweaters, shoes and purses in all their right places.
- Family & friends: we’ll miss them and all the occasions that bring us together. Though we take it for granted that we are in the same city, province or country, I take comfort in knowing that if I wanted to, I could see most of them within minutes or hours.
The things I’ll miss might sound like a crybaby list of first world problems, but as I start to clear out my desk at work and make last minute packing arrangements, I empathize with Dorothy, poised to leave the wonderful world of Oz, clinking her red ruby slippers three times over: there truly is, no place like home.