I have the tendency to randomly repeat certain lines from songs and poems when they come to mind. One of the lines I continually find myself repeating comes from a Monica Richards song: What is it and why is it that this is what we all need: home. A place to rest, to lay down our heads.
For a while now I have been avoiding this word. I tell myself that it is merely a result of studying abroad, of being torn between 2 countries and 2 selves.
In the beginning I used the word "home" at least 20 times a day to refer to many things - King William, Richmond, Virginia, the United States, France, Nantes, my room in Fresche Blanc - and now I don't use it at all.
Sometimes I wonder if in using it all those times I may have somehow confused myself. That would explain the confusion I feel and the fact that I can't precisely tell where to call home these days.
When people ask me what I am going to do after the program in Nantes ends, I tell them that I will be going back to the United States. When people ask me when I am leaving, I say that I am returning to Virginia on 29 June. When people ask if going home will make me happy, I say that it is familiar at least.
So many questions. So many ways of avoiding that word.
I hope that one day I will be able to start using this word again - that I will return from this experience enriched but knowing where I belong. Or else the word will be lost to me and I will be lost in memories of my time in France - if this happens then I fear that "home" can no longer exist for me.
And what then?
For a while now I have been avoiding this word. I tell myself that it is merely a result of studying abroad, of being torn between 2 countries and 2 selves.
In the beginning I used the word "home" at least 20 times a day to refer to many things - King William, Richmond, Virginia, the United States, France, Nantes, my room in Fresche Blanc - and now I don't use it at all.
Sometimes I wonder if in using it all those times I may have somehow confused myself. That would explain the confusion I feel and the fact that I can't precisely tell where to call home these days.
When people ask me what I am going to do after the program in Nantes ends, I tell them that I will be going back to the United States. When people ask me when I am leaving, I say that I am returning to Virginia on 29 June. When people ask if going home will make me happy, I say that it is familiar at least.
So many questions. So many ways of avoiding that word.
I hope that one day I will be able to start using this word again - that I will return from this experience enriched but knowing where I belong. Or else the word will be lost to me and I will be lost in memories of my time in France - if this happens then I fear that "home" can no longer exist for me.
And what then?
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