Where is home? Tonight it’s in Hoxton. I’m on my way there now.
But in two months time? I won’t be heading there.
I’ve handed in my notice. I’ve let my landlord know I won’t be renewing.
Where does that leave me? I don’t know. That’s kind of the point.
It leaves me with options, but whether I’ll find one I’m happy with? I trust I will, but there’s no guarantee.
Which area do I want to live in? Do I want to live alone or in a shared place? How much am I willing to pay? What’s important to me?
Right now I don’t have the answers. And I’m cool with that.
It’s exciting to have possibilities. Exciting to be able to dream a bit, especially now where two months feels far away. As the days pass, I’m sure my feelings will evolve.
For now I know that home is London. It’s my city. The best city in the world, some might say.
Being here was a dream I held for a long time, but I didn’t think it would happen. I didn’t believe my path ahead would lead here.
But it did. And that’s beautiful.
At an event yesterday someone remarked how when you’re younger you often wish to know how it will all work out. Will things be ok? What will I be doing? How will I do X?
But live isn’t lived that way. Life is lived day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.
We can’t predict what would happen tomorrow. A year ago I couldn’t have predicted my life now. I can’t predict my life in a years time now, either.
And I love that. The beauty of possibilities. The freedom of the journey. The what if behind it all.
So as I walk home tonight, writing these words, I’m reminded that it’s ok that I don’t know exactly where home will be in two months time.
Even better than ok, it’s beautiful.