Home.
Home is an important word in the English language. One that means different things to different people. It’s where the heart is. It’s decorated with Live. Laugh. Love. trinkets on the walls.
It’s Bristol.
I’ve lived in Bristol since I moved here as a young teen in 2004, the finalisation of a divorce between parents giving a fresh start in a fresh city. And I have come to think of it as more of my home than where I was born and spent my early, formative, years. And 20 years later, I am leaving it behind to move across the globe to the largest city in the world, Tokyo.
Having never done more than a 2 hour flight (and even that was earlier this year) I am filled with trepidation at the onset of this new undertaking. Packing my life into two suitcases and a carry-on rucksack, and saying goodbye to all my friends and family to step into the, if not unknown, unexperienced. By me at least.
I am not yet leaving the country, that happens later, but this will be the last I see of this city that has seen me through school, romances, heartbreaks, and other various milestones of life. I don’t feel much excitement about what is to come, but there is a heavy pall of remembrance.
It may not mean much to everyone that pass through its streets, but to me, it means everything.