I’m back at my host family’s house today. Wasn’t in Rabat for long but got some good studying done there and saw the doctor. So glad to be back with them in Meknes today. I don’t realize how much I miss them until I’m with them again. They feel like family and are most definitely the easiest Moroccans for me to communicate with. I feel so comfortable with them that I’m not afraid to make mistakes. I’m able to get my point across even when I mess up, and they help me improve my language skills when I do. We all laugh a lot together, and I feel at home with them.
I have so many homes at this point. I just googled the meaning of home- the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. Not sure what the threshold for permanence is, but I definitely consider places home where I have not lived permanently, in my opinion. I think home is established through much more than time. It’s about the people, the landscape, the culture, the language, both spoken and seen. It’s about how you fit within all of these things.
And not to be cliché, but sometimes home can be a person. Like with my host family, I feel at home with them, no matter where we are. Same with my real family. With my friends. I am lucky to have so many homes, even more lucky that some are portable. Each one that I find does not diminish the others. Home is love, immeasurable and boundless.