Home, away from home, away from home.Just arriving, suitcase in tow. Relief? Or disbelief that only hours ago I was on the other side of the Atlantic. (I'm generally stupified when I land safely on the tarmac, often anticipating the worst when travelling by air).
Time to resettle. I unpack, tidy up and even fit in a short run to shake out the jet legs. Somehow I still feel unsettled, and away from home. But neither do I really feel in my element in Canada any longer. I've never really been attached to location - but rather to people. Although I certainly miss runs along the escarpment, picnics by the Pelee shores, dining in Toronto and driving the Ontario highways strips. I would likewise long for a Friday falafel from the Borough Market, lounging on the common in the summer, Wednesday workouts in Battersea Park, mild summers, mild winters and the weekday bustle across London Bridge.
So here I am now, and my travels have left me forever clicking my ruby heels, murmuring the mantra, "There's no place like home", and without a place in mind.
