Polar ice caps: what home means to me

Sometimes the concept of “home” feels like the polar ice caps: I am told that it exists, and yet I cannot comprehend it until it begins to melt and flood my world. At other times it is a whole set of little things that begin to make me feel like I can believe in this concept.

When I went to the mattress store looking for something cheap, the sales woman barely contained her laughter at my immediate comfort on a foam bunk bed mattress. This seven inch piece of high quality foam immediately made me feel at ease. I suddenly felt… at home. I bought Sleep Country’s cheapest mattress and a box spring off the floor. I have not felt more at home since returning to the US.

It might sound silly that a mattress could do this. I spent 8 years sleeping on a five inch slab of foam over some wooden slats. I never realized how comfortable this was until I returned to the US and slept on some bad spring mattresses.

Finally finding myself sleeping on a hunk of foam again reminded me of some of the best times in Uganda. As I turned over, I was transported back to the Kingfisher lodge, where I slept on their glorious king size foam beds. I actually reached out to touch the mosquito net in my half-awake state, only to realize that we don’t have malaria here.

As soon as I got up this morning and turned on my computer, my Skype went off with a call from my “Uncle” Peter. Also known as Mr. Nagler, my high school Biology teacher, he makes my week when he calls me. Hearing from him was delightful and reminded me of all of the best things about Uganda.

Later, I walked back into my room. It finally struck me that the noise I had heard all morning was, in fact, a rooster crowing. While this seems unremarkable in a way, it is a sound that I have not heard since I moved. I realized that this sound woke me this morning. I don’t know how to put into words what this sound did for my mind… I guess the closest thing I can say is that it made me feel like myself again.

This all sounds fairly trivial when I try to put words to it. I don’t have the words that I need to describe the feeling of ease and joy that a rooster’s crow instills. I don’t know how to say that I laughed talking to Peter like I rarely laugh… full of ebullience. I don’t know how to say that a foam mattress causes me to realize that I am not an estranged lump of this world, but am instead an integral—while different—feature.

Little tastes of a life once lived can make you feel ecstatic, relaxed, and peaceful. In this strange place, I find myself realizing that I can settle down at some point. And so, I have hope.