but as i look out of the window and chinley's gently showered with small, little, light raindrops that doesnt make any noise, along with bbc radio 3 chatters, i think about packing for next few days, once again. we will float through london, oxford, bilbao, san sebastian and santander before getting back here, a small dot on a map, even invisible from the google map's street view (you can see the 'entrance' for this short street but not the houses themselves)-
and once we get back, it will be another few short days till heading west, to yyz. and that is home too, back perched on 32nd floor in bustling city, flashing with lights and ringing with sirens all day/night long.
instead of making slow roasts and sewing hop bags for beer brewing, it will be quick 20 min prep dinners and walking back from midnight movies to home.
im the same person in both places. but depending on where i am, my context changes constantly and i keep finding slightly variations of myself. alone, with people, along other people, even belonging to a group- sometimes.
sometimes when i talk of 'home,' people arent sure 'which' home im talking about. and i chuckle and explain. when people were talking about incredibly hot and muggy yyz summer, for instance, i had no idea how it went (as i was roaming probably east of north america); or unexpected snowfall in uk (as i was probably freezing in yyz). and i hop through different backgrounds as necessary.
but the best thing about this is that i still have a definition in my mind, what a home is.
home is where i look in and find the people i listen and crave. home is where i can lay down and fall into a happy sleep, not having to toss around to find the right 'spot.' where i can stumble into the bathroom in pitch dark, half-asleep, and know exactly where everything is. a place where i can pull out last minute 'treat' that i have bought eons ago. a room with a favourite chair, or rather, a chair that pulls me over, like a magnet. i flop down and it's home.
i know my pots and pans. my spoons and chopsticks. where i put down soaps and spare toilet rolls. some obscure adaptors and cables. the old cold medications that i put away while humming through finally clear sinus. the nooks where all the dust bunnies and dinosaurs congregate
where it smells like people i like. people i live with. familiar shoes and jackets in the sight, hastily hung somewhere. hotels and lodgings and other people's houses always have slightly unique smell.
right now, chinley home smells of fermenting young beer- sweet and slightly yeasty. and when i walk over to the shed, there'll be two hop plants, climbing up the lines, slowly and surely.
toronto home may smell like neighbour's fried eggs in the kitchen. that always cracks me up.
bathrooms that i pick up hairs after shower, without being irked. a tub where i can lay self down and hum along with bubbles. places where i hid some fancy soaps for 'later.'
as i slowly make another list of 'packing,' (packing everything into a 28L bag or less, always takes a bit of addition/subtraction in the head) i look out and see the familiar scene of drizzly british summer rain. and wee bird call. rain must be lifting a bit.
if the rain lifts a bit, i will put my shoes on and carefully tread to the shed, trying to avoid slugs as much as possible (dont like them, but like it even less to step on them... making me a killer!), as i do here. back in yyz, i would put on my almost 20 years old blunnies and walk to avoid gums on pavement. different objects to dodge around.
im wistful to leave home. this summer has gone super fast. a month in stans, then guest for 2.5 weeks, then proms, and it's NOW. i havent got into a wide mental space this summer, where i often get into a new projects such as mastering pizza making from scratch, or learning to brew water kefir with silly scobies, as time ran through the calendar.
next morning, we leave home, and then when we come back, it'll be a new month, and it'll also go fast. so i better go make the most out of my home. cuz i love this home very much.