Home is an interesting concept.
I’ve written about that before, but it’s hitting me again.
I’m in Ghana, West Africa.
It’s been awhile since I’ve left the States for any significant portion of time. And I’m only here for ten weeks – which is actually on the short end of how long I like to be gone. And while it’s no secret that I love to travel, it was difficult to leave Denver…
…to leave home.
What is home? Home is my family and my friends. It’s is my own comfortable bed. It’s coffee in the kitchen upstairs. It’s my running and my climbing shoes. It’s my (way too many) clothes in the dresser. It’s an air conditioner and a heater to keep my house a bearable temperature. It’s a washer and a dryer. It’s fast, reliable internet and wifi everywhere I go. It’s all these things and a thousand more.
And I’ve gotten used to having all of these things at my oh-so-American fingertips. But I’ve been in Ghana for 18 hours (two of which were spent waiting on my luggage and 12 of which were spent sleeping), and I’ve realized I need far less than my oh-so-American fingertips want.
It’s not that all the things that make up my life in America are inherently bad. It’s just that anytime you travel you are reminded that a) they aren’t all necessary and b) you have them because you have been incredibly blessed.
So yes, it would be nice to have a few percentage points less of humidity. It’d be nice to curl my hair or go rock climbing or wear my favorite jeans. It’d be nice to hug my family and my boyfriend. But I’m in Ghana and my bags are unpacked and there are pictures of friends and family on the wall and a cup of coffee on the table next to me.
I’ve got all I need. For ten weeks, this is home.