They tell you home is where you are safe. They tell you home is a place to be yourself. Then they evict you from it. On a whim, a wish, a fantasy. Or maybe it’s destiny. That you no longer have a from destination. Then they no longer recognise your identity. They say you are a refugee. If you are lucky, a welcome guest. As a refugee in this new unfamiliar landscape, to what past do you go to, in search of a home? Is it still your home if you have been told that you are just a refugee, and in fact are now nothing more, at best, than a welcome guest?
Are you doubly exiled?
Or do you actually have two homes, unwelcome in either?
You say a home is a person. You say that this person completes you. You say that this is your person.Then your person tires of you. On a whim, a wish, a fantasy. They find another person. Maybe it’s destiny. That you no longer have a destination you can belong to. Then they no longer recognise your identity in their lives. They treat you like a stranger, a refugee. If you are lucky, they welcome you back – briefly, as a guest. As a refugee in this new isolating world, how will you seek home in personhood again? Can you beg for visitation rights?
If home is a person and that person’s home is another person, do you still have a home?
Or do you now have two homes by proxy, neither of which cares over much for your presence?