I’ve been a bit quiet lately.
Repatriation is a strange mix.
I speak with no accent, but look the wrong way when crossing the road.
I’m the person sitting quietly on a bench, or in a cafe, while conversations happen around me.
I’m the one standing in the supermarket with an inner calm at the realisation that the ingredients in the recipe match the ones on the shelf.
I’m nearing the end of a phase. I’ve had time to reflect and the words are coming back.
Faces on the street are becoming familiar, and there is the promise of friendship.
Change is scary, terrifying, but sometimes you find what you were looking for.
I am home nowhere and everywhere.
But for now I’m right where I’m meant to be.