Boy walks into a room he has known well but hasn’t visited in a while and makes everyone laugh. Its odd. Because he’s tried that joke in other rooms and it didn’t go down so well. Boy very easily walks the line between offence and polite observation and again… laughter. Odd. Walking down the street he understands all conversations around him… it irks him, then gets exciting. People ask him directions and he almost walks a whole city block to explain in great detail where they must go. Boy is vexed. He feels at home. But not. He feels his heart is full of warm joy for the first time in a long time, but is also an outsider observing everything from the outside. He doesn’t know where the forks go, or how the oven works, or what time anything is. But is oddly trusted with cooking the sweet potato and leading a large group meeting.
Returning to Australia this time has been odd. I ignored my hearts song for this place for so long that when I booked my flights home and it became an assured thing, the next time I heard an Australian accent I wept. I had kept my homesickness at bay just that little too long and it blubbed out of me. The flight back was terrible. And for a flight lover like myself it was odd, and my jetlag was deeply annoying. But this place…. `with all its memories of life changing moments, with all of its older and more maturer faces. Some of the babies are now fully grown adults and so many of the elders have married or died, changing the relational chemistry in some aspects quite a lot. I left the middle of summer at 22 degrees and arrived in the midst of winter at… 22 degrees. Saw my Mum, Claire and the babies. Then Dad Lydia Mark Claire and the babies. And I’m back in Australia but still the same distance away from my brother as I was away from Amsterdam back in Lithuania. so close.. but not.
Each meal and drink here is worth at least two or three back home. (and its at this point that I start questioning my use of the word HOME again.)
Home… the house I lived in for 19 years that has been bulldozed and rebuilt recently. Home… the house I lived in for 4 years that will be moved out of soon by the community I grew into a different type of man amongst. Home…. the house I lived in for almost two years in Vilnius, with many beautiful people that I have moved out of now. #techhomeless
And meta…. home, the country I was born in. Or home the country I choose to now move my life to.
But this home, Australia, makes so much sense. My heart sings here, my language mostly makes sense here. My family is here, my best friend is here.
But that home, Lithuania is…. where I am convinced I am still supposed to be.
So of course.. I have a tiny dichotomy of want. and love. I love and want to be here. My heart is refreshed here. I love the people of this land. But… my heart is also deeply entrenched in the goodness and people of Lithuania.
The boy imagines what it would be like to live in a rural community surrounded by all of his family. four generations of people he knows and loves. and friends he has had and known his whole life. How beautiful. How amazing. And why he has chosen the opposite of that he again wonders. How does he communicate to those he loves that will hurt while he is away that he didn’t choose pain but purpose. He didn’t choose others over them. He didn’t choose the game. The game chose him.
I love you all. I haven’t met many humans I didn’t enjoy. And I have close and intimate friendships with people all over the world. So I am cursed to always miss someone. But not cursed… blessed. And as I have chosen to always miss my home country, trips “home” will forever be cursed. But not cursed… heart refreshing, blessed conversations and baby holding.
So I will be home for a few months before I return home. We can hug if you want. Or discuss. But, if you try to convince me to stay here, know that my heart will weep at your every word. Know that part of me wants to drop all my convictions and stay at your house forever. But also know that if I stayed here, a part of me will surely die.