That’s just what I’m gonna be: keyless.
One of the realizations I had these days when I spent way to much time at home. My last deadline has passed and now it’s really just waiting, packing, saying my goodbyes – or well, my see-you-soons. Those of you who know me or have followed my old blog know how bad I am with goodbyes.
I was trying to wrap my head around the whole moving thing – yes, still. And was trying to figure out what stuff I want to bring, what other stuff I should store or give away. But then it hit me: I am also gonna give my key away, without actually having a key to my new place yet which usually is the case. It’s also not like I’m just subletting my home and will be back. I’m literally packing my life in two bags (déjà vu) and hand over my keys. I’ll be absolutely keyless. With my belongings wrapped around my body.
I don’t want to call it homeless. Not only because it would be inept towards actual homeless. But also because I really am not.
It got me thinking though. What is home?
One of my early theories from when I had this conversation with myself some years ago, felt brave and adventurous: Home is where the backpack is. Well… If you have ever been backpacking you might agree that that is not really true. Just because you stay over for some nights in a hostel in East Asia, that hostel doesn’t miraculously become home.
What I came up with after some deeper reflections is much closer to the truth – and frankly I still think I’m a little genious for figuring this out: Home is where you do your laundry. Think about it.
It’s true. During my first year in college I didn’t have a laundry machine in my house and hence commuted to my parents place at the weekends to (not only obviously) do laundry. I never felt really home at that place… Can’t relate? Well: Have you ever spent so much time at someones place, without actually living there, that it almost felt like home? Well it will the minute you wash your laundry there.
Considering all these wise intuitions I should still feel homeless. For the few days that I’m actually gonna live keyless. I somehow do, I mean I’m moving to another continent and then to another continent – for at least 15 months. Of course that is scary, of course it doesn’t exactly make you feel very grounded, rooted and secure.
My solution to stay sane is giving up the static, place-bound idea of home. Home is where the people that you love are, those who really make a difference. Home is a little everywhere. For me mostly but not only in Göteborg, Stuttgart and Boston. For now. After all: Does it matter if you don’t own a single key in this world if you are sure that there are people that will open their door for you, hug you, invite you in and make you coffee?
I’m ready to get some laundry done in DC – and hopefully find some great people, too.
Please leave your thoughts in the comments. I’m really excited to hear what home means for you.