Nowadays

"There is no place like home," Dorothy says, taps the heels of her ruby red shoes and returns from the magical Land of Oz back home to the dusty prairies of Kansas.

  

She, who once believed that adventures would make her happy; she, who dreamed of a better life far away from her uncle's farm, has learned that no matter what adventures awaits you in far-away lands, no matter which friends you make or how deeply they touch you, home is always home and there is no place like it.

  

Once, I was just as restless as Dorothy. I longed for my world to expand. I thought adventures equaled happiness. Therefore I set out to find it. 
  
My restlessness took me around the world. My restlessness brought me adventures.

   

I traveled the Middle East. For a while I called a small but beautiful room just inside one of the gates of Old Jerusalem my own. I loved every second. And as springtime transformed the hills around Jerusalem in early March, bringing out flowers and senses I had never seen or felt before, I did not miss the cold spring-winter-rains at home.

       

I have stayed in Egypt. Long enough to feel comfortable, long enough to make friends, long enough to make a habit of scuba diving in the Red Sea. And as I floated in the lukewarm water, face to face with guppies and puffy fishes, I did not miss the cold, greenish waters of Öresund.

   

I fell in love. And love brought me more adventures.

It brought me to a new continent. To the country where everything is big. So also the dreams. My own dreams were huge. I made someone a promise to stay. Forever. I made a promise and I started a new life.

  

But. Something in me had changed.

  

Beacuse it is easy to find adventures in new places. All it takes is an open mind and courage to go. But somewhere along the way, my hunger for adventures had transformed into the need for a home. And I had none.

  

I loved the warm weather in Texas. Still, as I woke up to the fiftieth day of bright sunshine, my soul craved the misty rains of Skåne. I loved the people, their optimism, their warmth, their ability to socialize. Still, as I found myself in conversations I could not always tap into, I craved someone to be "typically Swedish" with.

  

Is it a defeat to give up a life of adventures and go back to what you know?

Is it a sign of weakness to be so connected to where you come from, that no place else feels like home?

   

Some days I believe that.

  

Still, as I spend countless of hours at friends' kitchen tables, turning my soul inside out, trying to find myself again, I watch spring break under a clear, pale blue sky. It does not smell as sweet as spring in Jerusalem, it is not at warm as spring in Texas. But it is a part of me in a way that no other spring is.

  

Dorothy could bring nether the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, nor the Cowardly Lion back to Kansas. Their home was Oz. I have left pieces of me scattered around the world. I leave half my heart in Texas. But just as Dorothy, I have landed a little wiser, a little older, knowing myself and what I need.

  

One thing have I learned. The difficult - but adventurous - way:

  

There is no place like home.