The longest time I’d been away from my parents was three weeks before this trip. They’d gone to Mexico with my little sister and I decided I was adult enough to stay behind and play house because I was a big grown-up 20-year-old. I remember feeling extremely home sick, even though I was the one staying put in dreary old England.
When I missed them most, I’d sit in their room for a few minutes to enjoy the scent of my mum’s perfume and sight of my dad’s socks scattered on the floor. It made me feel closer to them. Unfortunately I can’t replicate these home comforts while travelling so sometimes I feel like I’m loosing my grip on the family unit.
It may be easier now more than ever to stay in touch with people on the other side of the world thanks to things like FaceTime and Skype, but tech giants still haven’t mastered the digital hug.
It’s also hard to talk about anything other than your travels. When you try to change the me me me tune to ‘what’s going on back there?’, usually the reply is ‘same old’ (with an annoying two second delay).
The longer I’m away the better I’m becoming at pushing these feelings aside. I still miss our Sunday roasts, arguments about who lost the TV remote, and catch-ups over a cuppa, but knowing I won’t enjoy these things again for a while doesn’t scare me as much. This is why I think it’s important to distance yourself from a loving home. You’re probably thinking that sounds stupid, but stay with me.
If you have a strong, stable and enjoyable family unit why the hell would you want to leave and explore the world? Why would you want to test your limits and experiment with new environments when yours is so damn good? Well, it comes down to what if. What if that’s not the case, and what if you did try leaving the nest to see how far you can fly (cheesy metaphor but it paints a nice picture).
Your stable, loving home will always be there but the world waits for no-one.