One month, two months… honestly, I’ve lost count of how many days it’s been since I last posted here. It’s crazy how time flies, especially when we postpone things.
In my defense, writing has always been on my mind, but I just couldn’t get myself to settle down and type.
I could easily blame writer’s block, or the busyness of life, or anything that sounds reasonable. However, rather than dwelling on that, I’d rather focus on now. I’ve managed to type these first few words, and that’s what matters.
I recently moved into a new town… again. And there is something that has been on my mind.
The Question That Always Finds Me
In conversations, I often get asked a popular question:
“So what are your long-term plans? Do you see yourself staying in France for good?”
Sometimes, people don’t even ask. They just jump straight into conclusions, like:
“So, when are we meeting that French guy?”
Most of the time, I don’t have a ready-made answer. I pretend to pause and reflect, as if I’m visualizing my future. In reality, I’m just trying to figure out the most “appropriate” answer at that particular time.
The truth is, I have different answers for different people. Different futures, we could say.
To give a clear and definite answer, I’d need to have already pictured my future in detail, my career, family, personal growth, and everything else that adulthood demands. And that’s a work in progress as per now.
What I Have Actually Visualized
Right now, my mind is filled with dreams of traveling: Going back to Germany, visiting Lisbon and Rome, exploring Sicily, and dancing to Barcelona’s vibes again. Maybe even Rio de Janeiro… and then Madrid. I think of Cape Town, the quiet beauty of Botswana, and the endless desert skies of Namibia.
That’s what I easily visualize: adventures, journeys, and the vastness of Europe and Africa. But to say I’ve chosen France, or Switzerland, or anywhere else as my final destination? That would be a lie.
A Nomadic Life
Since moving to France, I’ve already lived in four different towns. Each move has felt like the start of a new season, and over time, my life has taken on this nomadic rhythm.
Packing my suitcases, carrying memories with me, and stepping into the unknown has become almost second nature.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped fearing new beginnings. Over time, my mantra has become this: if one place doesn’t work out, I trust that another will. After all, nothing is permanent.
And yet, while goodbyes have been a constant, though painful, they’ve also taught me to let go and keep moving.
Redefining Home
This way of living has reshaped my mindset. I no longer think of home as one fixed location. Instead, I carry a sense of home with me, like a traveler carrying essentials.
Being a foreigner in France has made me hold both crying during farewells and standing strong in a new town in both hands. It’s surviving first, and then, somehow, thriving.
I’ve come to see that home is not defined by walls or addresses. Home is in the small routines that ground me: Sunday calls with my family, catching up with friends after months, updating this blog, whispering daily prayers, and even pushing myself to reach those 7,000 steps.
Home, for me, is wherever I can carve out peace, build a rhythm, and create a little haven of my own.
The Bottom Line
The truth is, I don’t know where God has marked out for me in the years ahead. What I know for sure is that right now I have bills to pay, a degree to attain, and places I still want to see.
For now, wherever my suitcases land, that’s where home will be.
