Feels Like ‘Home Home’…
I’m crying. It started last night after we settled into our new VRBO (like AirBnB) in Napier, New Zealand, and went to bed. It was the smell of the linens. They smelled like my grandma’s house when I was a little girl. No, not that old, musty, mothball smell that pervades some grandmother’s homes, nor that too-sweet powerdy one. This is just a light, floral scent…maybe even the rose sachet in the closet. But it smells like home. Not the home we left when we sold everything to travel the world.
I mean home home…the one you carry in your heart as a safe place from your childhood. The home home that hasn’t existed for several decades and you can’t actually go back to, as much as you’d like. The one full of happy memories of people who are in heaven. The home home that makes you cry when you get a whiff of it.
And this place also FEELS like home. The furniture and decor is not too new and sterile or too old like someone’s cast-offs. As Goldilock’s would say, it’s “just right.” It has ice cubes…and washcloths…a stove and oven and even dishwasher! The kitchen is fully equipped, the bathroom has nice toiletries, there are lots of pillows of varying heights, tons of hangars, coasters and even fairly sharp knives. And throw blankets! This sounds ridiculous to my non-nomad friends but those of you who travel full-time are excited for me right now, right? This is a very good place to spend a month. I might even be able to finagle a way to make cookies here. Iced tea and homemade cookies in that secluded back patio area feels like home too, doesn’t it?
I’m not homesick. I’m just tired right now. We had 5 very busy days of travel and sightseeing in Rotorua and it was fantastic (And in a great motel that had recliners! And a bathtub! I’m hitting the jackpot lately!). But short nights and long days covering many miles was tiring. That could make me emotional.
We also spent time there with some other nomads whom we’d barely met before, in Sydney, before Christmas—the last time we socialized in person with nomad friends. (Our Waiheke VRBO hosts did have us to a lovely dinner at their home with another nice couple). Spending many hours talking to new friends who “get you,” who share your unconventional lifestyle and the unique joys and stressors that go along with it, is a reallly special thing. It’s bonding and full of laughter and truth.
Afterwards, it makes me emotional. It’s a “home” feeling too, in it’s own unique way. I feel understood in a way that even my family and lifelong friends no longer can make me feel about my current life, though having them know me for so long in all the lifelong iterations of myself is irreplaceable.
My definition of “home,” because of this life, keeps expanding to include all the places in the world we live in and love for a month or so, and the feeling of being around other nomads, as we cross paths and compare notes online, who start to feel like an extended family of sorts. My heart just keeps opening up more and more.
As full-time travellers, no longer having a physical place to call home is an interesting feeling. One we never mind, because to us (who have moved a number of times), home is the people we love, not a building. Home for me, in it’s purest essence, is in Tim’s arms. But sometimes I do miss simple creature comforts like ice cube trays and throw blankets. Anywhere with the home comforts we used to take for granted is an unexpected, joyful gift. And one that smells like “home home” is the very best of all.
