hello. so, I've been quite frequently moving in and out of houses in the past year (and countries too). Now that I think of it, somehow, ever since I got back to Portugal, I've been really struggling to feel at home anywhere I "settle arraiais" (a portuguese expression I really enjoy, that refers to put all your stuff somewhere and settle).
last time I felt at home was at the comuna, the place that took me days to say goodbye to, including a very emotional last nap on my own tiny bed and a few last nights before that sleeping in Lo's bedroom because we couldn't comfortably fit two in mine. I said goodbye to that place like you say goodbye to a big big friend you know you'll never live the same things again with but shared such amazing experiences that you know you will always care for them. Last year's June, we departed. I was the last one, a few days after Oli left, and I must admit I cried a bit when I dropped my keys in the mailbox.
since then, I have slept and eaten and showered and cried and danced in houses, but not in a home. and it's important to say I am a person who gets very very attached to things, even the most insignificant you can think of, like rubber bands or pens. but somehow, it didn't hurt to leave the house I found when I first came back to Lisboa. I spent three months there but it was such a normal mundane moment to just hear the lock's two clicks for the last time.
now I've spent two and a half months in a brand "new" (renovated) flat, with just my sister, probably living my teenage years house dream with a big room, plants everywhere, the comfiest couch I've ever sat on and a pallet tv stand made by my dad. yet, it just struck me. I don't feel at home.
it's like I feel disconnected from the house. don't get me wrong, I am very grateful for it and it brings me great joy to be here and fill it with good things and cook and sing out loud. but it just feels... weird. temporary. that it's not home.