Free But Never Home

 

I was hanging out with a refugee today, a man from Togo, a country with a bad human rights record and a history of dictatorships. Now he’s in Hong Kong of all places and while he is free from the troubles of his past he is by no means home. So I wondered, if he managed to find another country more suitable for him than the infelicitous Hong Kong, a place where he could at least draw some parallels with his home, would he be happy? While he could attain happiness by being away from persecution he is far away from what used to be, his home is gone.

I am fortunate, for though my home is somewhat transient, I can still pick out people, places and aromas that bring me home. For this I should be grateful and yet I don’t truly appreciate it because if you were to compare my joy to this refugee’s then I surely come out on the bottom.

Perhaps I need to re-evaluate my fortune.