I took a break from the HOME SERIES. We are back now! Enjoy this article by Dami Abiodun. A friend and mentor in ways I can’t explain. Dami is home to me in a way other people aren’t. But this isn’t about my definition of home as I published mine – HERE
Home is in my people.
I’ve lived in the same place for 5 years and I haven’t settled in. Likely never will.
Home is in my people. My lover and my babies. That’s why I can pack suitcases tomorrow and feel nothing beyond the gratitude for the roof over our heads. No nostalgia. No memories bound to the space. Nothing.
Home is with my mom. Watching my daughters taste off my childhood in all the good ways.
The warmth, love and appreciation for her that not even my 32 Easters have dulled.
Home is in my grandparents. They had such good, long, full, lives and they greatly enriched mine. It’s been 6 years since their last “I love you”. But they are home. The memories are home. A literal shelter too.
Home is with my friends. It’s even possible virtually in these times. The inter-connectedness of hearts that distance has no relevance in. Chimdinma on WhatsApp, Kehinde in Hong-Kong, Mama Makinde 2 houses away. Tola and our 6 hours time difference. Temitope one call, two bikes away… Ameenah, Lanre, Fola, Folu, A long, long, list.
If I absolutely had to choose a place to call home, it would be Ibadan. Because even though my family of origin unraveled irretrievably here, I found me here. I found love here too. My life’s journey is incomplete without the city of Ibadan. I do feel like it’s time to move. And I’ll take home with me, wherever I go from here. My people. My lover and my babies. And a suitcase of my favourite things, if there’s space for it.
Featured Image: Gathering…The Good people are gathering.
A figurative palette knife paiting by Texas Artist Lurie Pace
Source: Daily Painters