I am just back from a brief business trip to France and basking in the glory of home. My days in Nantes passed in a flash—meetings, a bit of research, a few get-togethers with friends, and inordinate amounts of bread, cheese, and Muscadet. Then… poof! The week was over and I was headed home.
Leaving France is always bittersweet. This particular trip was chock-full, but I returned to Kentucky feeling energized and happy. Coming and going allows me to see how much I value my space—a small house bursting with books and decorated with meaningful objects I have collected over the years. Travel makes me love home all the more.
But what is home? And why are homecomings euphoric? I’ve moved enough times to understand that for me, home is not architectural and not even geographic. I carry the idea of home inside me. It’s an evolving, comforting feeling that grounds me and reminds me of who I am. Home is supple, nebulous, and affirming.
Coming home is a euphoric return to my center. I take up my daily rituals and reunite with those who are dear to me. I reengage in work. I undertake creative projects, many fed by my travels. The intense excitement of homecomings doesn’t last… and it shouldn’t. It is healthy that we fall back into the comforting, ho-hum daily routines that give structure to our days.
Inspirations
I travel a little for work and a lot for pleasure. I set out on my own, my journeys bringing me to rainy Edinburgh streets, to the salty French seaside, and to my childhood home in Iowa. Each trip enriches me. I fill my soul with modern art, befriend fellow train passengers, and soak in the places that become part of me.