How many homes?
I started moving early, from town to town, between cities and the countryside. Later, we even crossed an ocean and spent nearly seven years in a country that still holds half my heart. The warmth, the openness, the true zest for life we found there… it lingers in me still.
All those moves — and the way my parents made a home wherever we landed, whether in a capital city or a quiet village at the edge of the world — shaped me in ways I’m only now beginning to fully understand. That persistent rhythm of arriving, adapting, and blending into place became a kind of apprenticeship. And the toolkit I carry now, for making a life in motion a steady one, was built in those early years.
I knew it even as a ten-year-old: I didn’t just want to visit places, I wanted to know them. Not just the landmarks, but the people. Their stories. Their roots and traditions. Their music and jokes, the way they danced, the rhythm of their days. I wanted to understand how they built their communities. And once I was old enough, I started going — not just to countries, but to cultures. The first was France, during my university years. I’ll tell you more about that one soon.
But for now, here’s something I hope you’ll carry with you:
Always make a home of where you are.
Buy the tablecloth from the shop down the road. Hang a picture of a nearby field, or rooftop, or tree you’ve come to love. Add colour, texture, a small piece of art that speaks to you. Make a quiet place for your roots, and another for your present. Let them meet.
Blend, soften, mingle. Let your space reflect both where you’ve come from and where you are now. Even if it’s only for a few months, don’t let it remain just an accommodation.
Arrive to stay, even if you know you’ll eventually leave.
Make room for yourself. And then, let the place meet you too. Greet it with an open heart. Invite it in. Let it shape you — not all at once, but over time.
Until then,
Anna, the Lantern Keeper
Lantern Notes 