The Castle and the Goal

It's difficult to be "homeless", we all come from somewhere whether we like it or not. But having a past doesn't necessarily mean that we can call a place "home". The name is not enough, it needs the backup of the feeling.

When I first came to Scotland, to visit, I had been a proud migrant for a few years. All things considered, I was doing OK: I had a roof over my head, a job to pay my rent, a hot meal at the end of the day.

The whole process of moving to a different country from your homeland is a layered story, personal, never straight-forward. Those who have had to face it will always be enriched and empowered from the lessons learned when dealing with many losses.

In my case, wandering around the huge and wild London, massively crowded, was the perfect metaphor of how I saw myself in life: a bit lost and isolated but in search of answers. I longed for meaning, for a destination.

Coming to the beautiful Scottish capital was the result of a conscious decision: what matters to me? Why there? What implications will there be?

I would be lying if I said that I just made the decision. My heart played such a big part that I had to hear it out. There was an impulse and an intuition, two priceless forces that I hadn't had the opportunity to attend in the past. So I kept coming back as a visitor, and I kept reinforcing the love that I began to feel about a land that I hardly knew. Like a plant that is being watered, cared for and observed, the dream started to shape more and more. And then I jumped just on time: a pandemic round the corner surprised and shocked us all.

Would I ever call Scotland "home"? It's getting close to that blurry image: its beauty, its greenery, its values, its challenges and its ever "unreliable" spring days are becoming familiar. The choice may or may not be forever but it still makes sense at this moment.

That's why I try to be kind to Scotland, because it has "adopted" me in a way: it gives me joy, opportunities, challenges, learnings and inspiration that bloom under the little sun. If I water that gratitude the way that the sky waters us here with rain, maybe one day I will discover a new flower, so longed and desired, and feel that, finally, I can belong.