August 05, 2004
Home, wherever it is
"Today we are going back 'home', wherever it is." I wish I knew. I wish I could say something to her beyond mere phrases and hollow words. She is a Serbian victim of the war and I can't get her strength and sadness out of my mind.
She left her hometown five years ago with her husband and the baby. When they said goodbye to their parents none of them knew when and under what circumstances they would meet again. War forced them to go. They are in Slovenia now because the chances to get permanent resident status in Sweden are little. The boy is six years old and has to go to school. The chances to be able to stay in Slovenia are better than in Stockholm and the family is closer.
She is scared to go by car to Southern Serbia to pick up the boy at the grandparents' because she expects troubles at the Croatian border. It all went well, but still - they had to drive back to Slovenia. Although she didn't really want to we started talking about their war, the resistance movement, leaving, homesickness, "Requiem for a Dream", how to adjust in other countries. She is so strong and desperate at the same time. "This war ...", she says, "I'm a doctor, I don't care about nationalities, religions or the color of your skin." Her eyes are black holes of sadness. She is one of those you follow with your eyes lost in thoughts when she is walking down the street after you have said goodbye. She is completely lost in transit because there is no ending she can see.
For me leaving home was like walking and walking and walking, because it is such a nice day at the beach and you can see the big cargo ships going to Panama, birds chirping in the dunes, warm sand between my toes. One day I looked around, asked myself where am I and noticed how far away from home I was. Too far to go back for sure.
All I ever wanted was being home. No matter where. For various reasons I can't go "home". There is no way back. (The only thing I am asking myself is whether I want to be buried there.) After all these years when driving to wherever my official address is I still catch myself having my hometown in my head for a milli second and suddenly realizing, no, no, no, you are "home" somewhere else: "Wherever it is."
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Dear XY., don't give up. We won't be getting there if we do.