A place called home
A little panic sets in. I’ve just returned from the Philippines, straight after Thailand and Singapore, which means I’ve been away for two months. I haven’t stopped thinking about how to make a living or whether I can even manage at all with the low amount in which everything is paid in Indonesia and the high amount of daily living costs in Jakarta.
Off to my orphanage entrepreneurship high school, as usual, the place changes at alarming (in an amazing way) speed. Just as we talked about, Martin has set up a gallery of the student’s artwork in front of the home. A few of the students have gone to Jogja to learn about the mushroom business, which four months ago, Martin had planned to cultivate in the little space behind the home. The garden has been transformed with a wonderful variety of different plants.
New students will be arriving. A few had already arrived. Budi, the official new marketing person and I sit down to discuss further plans. My work piles again and I’m not even salaried, but the panic has gone. Calm has settled in; I love this; I want to do this; I NEED to do this.
As I hug the students who eagerly came to greet me, I know, while I can’t quell my wanderlust, this is where I belong; this is home. The warmth in my heart tells me so.