Do I Know What A Home Is?

"This is what, my fourteenth house?"

I asked my parents this question.

They laughed.

"More for us. We lost count!"

That's the feeling I've had my whole life...

The feeling of homelessness.

No, I'm sorry. That word is harsh. It speaks of the reality that so many people face.

While for me, it's just a feeling of floating from one house to the other.

A feeling I should be grateful for.

For there have been so many memories, so many experiences.

A lot of which I've forgotten.

Just today, my husband - who I've known for 4 years now - got confused.

"Wait, which country are you born in again?"

He can never remember. Sometimes even I forget where I come from.

"Isn't it conflicting? To be born in one country and be a citizen of another, and live in another country?"

Ah, I told him. Thank you for summarising my life.

It is true. I feel conflicted everyday. No place to call "home".

They say home is where the heart is.

But that's not quite how I function.

I just know home is where I have most of my stuff. Now I have three homes - where all my stuff is split into. Sometimes I stay in one longer than the other.

I even am honoured that some people tell me I should treat their houses like my own home.

Ironically, I have a house with my name on it, that I have not even visited in years.

It's just a lot of houses but no home, maybe?

I don't know. Maybe that's why the digital nomad/remote working situation works so well for me.

Maybe that's why I was actually happy to be in isolation during Covid, because we couldn't change homes.

I don't really know what a home is.

I just know I can ship out anytime, and shape any place to become my home.

Anyway, I counted.

It's the fifteenth home for me. 14th was the one I moved into when I got married.

How many more to go, eh?

Let's see.