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In each city there are two faculty apartments.  Melissa and I (the young women) take one, Sally and Joc (the IHP veterans) the other.  After five days in India, Mel and I fell into a morning routine; as we move house to house, country to country our mornings are familiar, comforting…home-like.

* *

She wakes up and starts yoga.

 

I wake up and start coffee.

As sun starts to rise, I sip my cup and watch the city wake.

She finishes – Namaste.

I shower, she cuts the fruit.

She showers, I set the table.

We sit, eat and enjoy a few minutes of calm before the day begins.

– calm –

 

We meet the faculty downstairs….

…and walk to school.

* *

In a vagabond-erous lifestyle I’ve learned to hold on to the consistent moments; the tocks that pace my jigsawed sense of ticking of time.  The shared living and shared caring.  The silent “I understand” and “we can do this together” of my putting milk in her coffee and she honey in my yogurt.

Each morning – for an hour – we walk through minutes that are known, turn through steps that can be counted and do our daily doe-see-doe around an to-small-for-two kitchen.

We have never talked about the routine, never planned or changed it.  We needed “home” and thus one came to be.

 

*   *

What makes your home away from home….or home in our house?

-Mels

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