Since my first move as an independent adult, I have been feeling this emotion that I could not quite put my finger on until now. I am beginning to understand the value of home. Home not being the four walls decorated according to the appeal of my parents, but the things that melt my heart.
Home is that hug you receive that makes you stay in place for an extra moment just to absorb it all in.

Since I came “back” here to Mozambique, I’ve moved so many times, from houses to apartments, to rooms, to just a sofa.
My social life online makes it easy for me to speak to people internationally and I recently spoke with a young man who told me his strong desire to reach America because things were not going well for him in Argentina.
Looking back, I wish I could have told him a little extra about the value of home. Even though we have bad memories in specific locations, home is as mobile as we are and if there is no foundation that we carry with us, we tend to drift around seeking something right under our nose.

One of the last things my father told me in the airport on my way here was “You’re always welcome at home. You know that” I was thinking, "I will never come back once I feel the freedom that life has to offer Me." and now I finally understand he was not speaking of the house, he was speaking about his own heart.


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