When I say, I am packing my suitcase, it isn’t the whole truth. I took my suitcase out from the closet. I am thinking about packing. I actually never pack until the day/evening before. Even if I have known for months that the travel date is fast approaching. Why is that? Is it because I am afraid that I might use some of the clothes intended for the trip. Maybe. But I do have a washing machine , so that really shouldn’t be an issue.
But here I am, and knowing myself, I will run around saturday night trying to find some clean clothes to wear, because I will of course have forgotten to do the laundry. Where am I going? Let me just explain. I am a Danish citizen, happily married and living in the center of the known Universe, or so I was told when I moved here, Newington Connecticut. USA. I do feel that CT is my home. I really love it here. But I have only lived here for 1 year and I have lived 44 years in Denmark. So as I am going to Denmark, am I then going “home”? I will be staying at my parents flat, which is the place I call my childhood home, so I guess, even if I will be a guest, at some point I will be saying, it is good to be home. However, when I think of HOME, it is our small house in Newington.
I love it here, even if I do miss my family and friends. Thank God for skype, facebook, email, and telephone. Mostly Skype. That gives me the opportunity to see who I am talking to. That is nice. But I was talking about packing. See I did it again. I try so hard to avoid it. I keep hoping that an angel of packing, will have done it, during the night or just when I am not looking, but as I have travelled a fair amount in my life, I should realize, a packing angel, doesn’t exists. Or does she? Well actually she does. She comes in the form of my mother. My mother is the super packer. She is in a league of her own. She can get everything in to nothing, if you know what I mean. And to really rub it in how good she is, when one of the suitcases she has packed is opened and the clothes hung up.... not a wrinkle in sight.
Maybe I secretly hope, that my mother will make some sort of transatlantic soul flight, during the night and pack for me. It hasn’t happened yet, so I am not keeping my hopes up.