I find it hard to believe that I can move in to a place with nothing but a suitcase and a carry-on size bag, and then call it “home”. I’ve travelled a lot. I’m accustomed to tossing through a narrow selection of clothes each morning and repacking my bag each week. I arrived at the apartment with the same bags I arrived in Singapore with over two weeks ago.
After unpacking my luggage into the cupboard I skipped off to buy bed linen and towels, returned to make the bed and open the windows, then danced off to find dinner. Upon my return I discovered that the room I’ve rented had transformed from being a place in which I could empty my luggage to being a home in which I live. Having unpacked my suitcase and made my bed, I find that I’m not just living in Singapore – I’m actually living in Singapore. I have a home here – even if that home is not as I imagined or planned, it is a home.
I don’t have luggage any more … I have stuff. And home is, indeed, where your stuff is.