I have moved fifteen times in my life, between three countries and two hemispheres. I have moved eight times in the last seven years alone. My three and a half year old has moved four times since he was born. My one year old has moved twice. The idea of home has become flexible over the years. You make your home where you land. Each time I move it becomes easier. Like jogging, you get better and stronger with every kilometer. The moving stamina improves.
My dad, the immigrant, has always said that home is where your family is. This has been my guiding principle for a long time. Now I know he's only half right. For me home is also where your most important friends are. Ever since I was kid, when we moved from Poland to Germany and then to Australia, I was always familiar with the feeling of missing friends, leaving someone important behind. With each moving decision I make, this missing feeling eventually accompanies as I leave various homes behind.
Over breakfast today Kazek pulled out his digger and said it was the digger he used to dig up the mud, with Kuba from the park, and that he missed his mate. Kuba is in Krakow where we lived until not so long ago. We're in Warsaw now. My little kidlet already knows the feeling of missing his friends.
I must rethink our flexible home plan.