Day five of Writing 101, and time to use social media to inspire some writing. I have tried ‘tweeting’ before, but didn’t persevere with it. I am using the following suggested tweet as the starting point for my writing exercise today.
Having already written about various homes of my ancestors my first thought was to continue this theme and I had grand ideas of writing about being at home with myself. After all I’ve been through, finally I am happy in my own company. I am lucky.
However, my thoughts then turned to those people who are homeless. Are you lucky if home is yourself? Is that ever going to be enough? In Brighton, walking round the streets in the City centre there are people in doorways wrapped in sleeping bags. They have nowhere to call home.
For some time now there have been immigrants travelling into Britain via France, being smuggled onto lorries and arriving with no more than the clothes they stand up in.
More recently there have been horrendous images of refugees travelling in boats into Europe, of young children dying on the journey.
To be honest it isn’t something I’ve previously taken on board as my personal problem. I tend not to worry about something I feel I can’t do anything about. This whole problem is just too big for me, whatever I do won’t make a difference. I don’t want to make myself sad when just feeling sad won’t help anyone.
So why do I feel so guilty? Because I have so much, and others have nothing. I have a home, a safe space and when I nearly lost it last year it was a very scary feeling indeed. For me, home isn’t a person, it’s having a space to call your own, where you can put your belongings. To make yourself a little refuge from the big world outside.
Of course people make a home, but now I’m older and my family are making homes of their own I still feel happy being at home here alone.
I need to think much more about refugees, to try to understand how they must be feeling and what led to them being in this situation. I need to gain more knowledge about politics, the state of the world and what is going on. At my age I feel I ought to have some more answers to the questions.
There must be something I can do. I can’t afford to give money, but I could maybe give some time in volunteering.
I feel I have been blessed to always have a home, to have somewhere to put my stuff and make it a comfortable base for myself. The size doesn’t matter at all, just having a corner of a room is enough, but to have my own space really matters.
Maybe I have read too much into the quote? ‘Home is a person. If you’re lucky, home is yourself’. On a very basic level I agree with it, but digging a little below the surface I feel that home is much more than a person.