Editor’s Note: September 2018

For a while now, I’ve been asking myself where I fit in. The sense of belonging has always felt ephemeral if not altogether elusive. The constant brick-laying and demolition of identity and personality often does this to us — it leaves us wondering where our parts fit a little more comfortable than others; where we can see ourselves a little more in focus than in other places.

I’ve grappled with this idea for a long time now. Am I in constant pursuit of anything I can even just vaguely relate to, to reassure myself I’m not in this alone? Am I meant for some great, abstract place where it all comes together? Someone told me we call this place home.

A quick internet search shouts to me that home is where the heart is, where the chickens come to roost, the place animals may outgrow, and a bunch of other ideas that haven’t quite resonated with me as much as an epiphany before a fever dream has subsided.

I’ve come to realise that home is a lot more than the comforts you’re afforded and the convenience it offers. Home may be where the whistling kettle is or where the plants need to be watered. Home is the shoulder you lay your head on but not a pair you burden to do so. Home is the worn out plaster that clings to the walls that have seen you grow, but not after you deny it having sheltered you from your past.

Maybe, to you, home is a place. Maybe it’s a memory. Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s simply an idea that lulls you to sleep.

This one’s a personal reminder to treat it in the gentle and comforting way it has proven to be a sanctum to you. That should you outgrow your home, you will find another. And above all else, that you will be as good a home to yourself as you may be to another.

*at all times of the day, we speak inside our heads

that’s why its important for us to at least be gentle with what we say about ourselves

because we’re always listening*