Hey everyone, how are you? How was your bank holiday weekend?
Mine was utterly glorious, after 3 months of being in Blackburn (yup, 3 months!) I finally managed to squeeze in a trip home. And well, there’s no place quite like it is there?
If you read my post last Friday, you’ll know that this last week I haven’t been feeling quite myself, and as I walked out of York train station on Saturday afternoon and headed to one of my favourite coffee spots, just how much I have missed home, hit me like a tonne of bricks. I sat there eating my freshly baked bagel, and began to think that coming home, in the mood I was in, maybe wasn’t the best idea.
Was going home, and seeing all the people I miss and all the things I am missing out on hard? In some ways, yes. But after that first bout of panic, once I settled into the weekend, and enjoyed it for what it was, it didn’t feel like I was rubbing salt into the wound. It felt like I was finding my centre again after a week of being off kilt.
It was a weekend of relaxing, seaside jaunts, and wine with friends and family. And as I sat there filling them in on my life now, and as I admitted to myself that I was lonesome, I also realised just how easily I could fix my downsides.
I used to live in York and have my friends and family close by, I used to have gorgeous coffee shops on my door step (or at least a short bus ride away) and plenty of time to blog and run. The downside? I didn’t have a clue what I was doing with my life.
Now, the opposite is true. Now I know exactly what I am doing with my life but I don’t have friends or family near by, or coffee shops on my door step, and I seem to have fallen behind with blogging, and I can’t seem to find the time to run. But those downsides, aren’t real, those downsides are all just a product of the frame of mind I seem to have fallen into.
Ok, my family are pretty far away, but you don’t measure a phone call in miles. Actually, I’m now closer to a large portion of my friends that live in Manchester, than I was in York, and I wouldn’t even have to go that far (45 minutes on the train) to find a decent coffee shop. In fact the train ride to the next town along is probably shorter than my bus journey into York used to be. And as for blogging and jogging, that just needs better time management. Yes every week my time table with work is slightly different, I can’t always guarantee I will be free on an evening, or a weekend, but I don’t have to be at work till 10 on a morning, and when I first moved here, I was getting up at 7. I’d probably write, and run, better first thing on a morning, if I just gave myself the chance.
So, no, there is no place like home. Home is magical, and as a single twenty something girl, I’m not ever going to be able to recreate that feeling where I am now. But magic is 95% performance, and if you look into things closely enough, you’ll realise that there is no reason why you can’t at least put on a bit of a show, to perk things up a bit.
Did that metaphor make sense?
I hope so, but if it didn’t think of it like this: no where is truly perfect, not even home, but wherever you are in the world, life is only ever what you make it.
Live life & visit home every now and then x