I stood in the middle of nowhere catching the rain drops by my mouth. It was getting dark and I knew it was time to go home but where is home? My thoughts were rushing through bits and pieces of old childhood memories capturing every single house I lived in, which one of them could I call home? My father left when I was six, not having a home we moved to another country. My stepfather disappeared right at the end of high school, I moved to a bigger city for college. Not much to miss as the house we were living in was one of the most restrictive places for a teen spirit. It hasn’t changed much so I keep wondering why do I have to belong somewhere where I actually FEEL at home?
The time between Halloween and Thanksgiving is always full of vague memories and nostalgia. The spooky reality of past and bright promises of the future leave you always somewhere in between, in limbo. Living your dreams between the cultures and countries, childhood and adulthood, seriousness and serenity, idleness and productivity, beginning and end. Black and white reality gets boring more than anything else and the only escape is to create, to make something brand new.
The process of creating is healing in itself since you lose touch with time and place, liberating your brain and helping your body to get rid of stress and worry only about the final outcome. The art of knitting or painting can be highly appreciated in anticipation of the holiday season. The gift of writing is also greatly needed to be able to compose those Christmas letters that only happen once a year. Crafts will come in handy to decorate your place for the whole month to enjoy. They say that home is where you make it, sounds like one has to be quite a maker after all.