A home

Not that long ago, as my early Christmas present, Alex took me to see Daniel Kitson's one man show "66a Church Road: A Lament. Made of Memories. Kept in Suitcases". It was incredible, and hands down, the best stage performance I've ever been to.

This is how Daniel described it: "Last September I had to move out of my flat after living there for almost six years. I didn’t want to. I lived alone. I am single. 66a Church Road was the longest relationship of my life.This is a break up show. For my flat.” (Daniel Kitson, London May 2008)

As Daniel Kitson sat centre stage, telling his story of a beloved home at 66a Church Road, he was surrounded by his memories; big old suitcases with little cut-out windows that light up with scenes from the house. His recounts were funny and ridiculous, heart-wrenching and poignant. And it resonated with how I've been thinking a lot about homes lately too... how in a short time my living abode will change - I will no longer go "home" to my family, but to my husband.

I already feel the twangs of pain when Alex and I have to part separate ways,
I feel a tug in my heart,
it is dawning slowly,
that my home is wherever he is.

I feel a whole host of emotions about packing up my things, leaving my here room of twelve years -
the glow of morning light through the led light windows,
the elaborately shaped ceiling rose,
the splatters of messy paint along one side my wardrobe,
the familiar carpet,
dust, shadows, smells...

I feel sadness, nostalgia before I've even left, excitement, curiosity, apprehension, and though you probably thought it impossible my nesting instincts towards my new abode have increased 10 fold!

People have so many ideas and theories about what makes a good house, but I think Kitson is right when he surmises that in a home all we really want "is a place we can feel safe and comfortable, and yet free...
Somewhere that is