When I left London, while riding in the cab, I got that scrabbly panicked feeling I get when leaving home. It feels like my heart is trying to jump out of my chest and clutch at passing lamp-posts, fences, bollards, pedestrians with its little bloody tentacles to stop me from going to the airport. I guess I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around the notion that it's okay to have multiple homes. That I can leave home in order to go home.
London is the place where I fully came into my own and created a new life out of the ashes of the old one. But wherever my parents, my only immediate family, choose to be will also be my home. And the places where my dear friends are, scattered across the world - all of them are home as well, and when I go to them my octopus heart will tickle its way into the familiar grooves and squeeze gently, and love will squeeze back.