Written by Lauren Mattingly
Here is my existential home, see, whilst it’s weird to think I have been disheveled in my desire to live abroad, a peaceful presence makes or breaks any situation. Time, place, and spatial relations alter what was once my birthplace, as home, to present moment ‘a home away from home’. Home exists where memories thrive, character matures, love fulfills existence.
After all isn’t home within oneself, the ultimate passage of inwardness. Whilst material possessions evoke history, represent our behalf, the truth is WE exist mind, body, and soul. I am the quintessence of an existential walking home.
I dream in tongues and wake up in un-explored territory. Brash newness, wonder and excitement, divine days ahead as I remove myself from the sheets and select my best outfit from a limited wardrobe. Grab the keys, see myself out, as I step foot outside for another “buen dia” en Buenos Aires.
The familiarity of the layout of my neighborhood, I know today I won’t pass the place where they sell organic peanut butter, maybe I will take a turn to pass by the shop that sells 4 dozen eggs for 6.36, and ignore at least 2 newspaper stands. The feeling is so quaint, passer-byes offering “holas” and pursing their lips to whistle.
Confidence in each stride I head with purpose and direction to work. People scattered about in different big wig companies within microcenter are expecting me. Stepping into streets darting eyes at the oncoming traffic I can’t hardly wait to get across. Hustle and bustle throughout the day from Alem to Moreno, Sarmiento, San Juan. Always checking into security desks, café con leche in conference rooms, interfacing with my students’ oddly proverbial faces.
Accountability as a face on the face of this earth that I strangely have felt a relationship with through teaching tongues.
I have learned valuable lessons like North Americans play apples to apples while Argentines speak of pears and bananas. Contributions in my habitat make me a creature of the environment, a belonger not a tourist. And at the end of the day after the notorious happy hours, I head to somewhere-ness, a safe haven from the chaos that exists on the streets. My stuff rests in peace at a territorial righteousness that I currently refer to as ‘home sweet home.’
Abrazo. Tranquilo. Sueno.