There is a children’s nursery rhyme that goes something like, “To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, home again, home again, jiggety jig.”  For some reason, that phrase has stuck in my head and I often say it whenever I get home, even if home is a one-night hotel room.  It reminds me that this is where my life is at that moment, and making wherever I am, home.  

Years ago, I had my astrological chart done and the woman told me I was a triple Cancer, my sign. I wasn’t sure what it meant then or now.  What I do remember was that she told me that Cancers are homebodies.  A funny moniker for someone who has spent her adult life traveling around the world and living in lots of countries. Then I realized that I have the ability to make a home for myself no matter where I am. In the days I traveled for business, I would arrive in a hotel room, hang up all my clothes, place pictures of my children and husband on the nightstand and voila, home! 

For the past nine months, I have been living in Budapest, Hungary, in an apartment that is slightly larger than my bedroom at home in Maine. It’s small with little space for one person, let alone two.  I could give you a tour of the entire apartment while you sit in a chair in the living room.  Somehow we have managed to make this small space home and our marriage has stayed intact.  In fact, it has grown, given the dependance two independent people have on each other.

So, after nine months in Budapest, with trips to Croatia, Turkey, Slovenia, Slovakia, a trip to the US to visit family and friends, and several places in Hungary, I am heading home to Maine in a few days. It has been a time of great reflection.  It was the first time in my adult life that I didn’t work.  It was both a challenge and a joy.  I went to Pilates classes three-days a week and got into good shape.  I wandered the city alone and learned the amazing public transportation system while Steve worked. 

Recently, Steve taught a lesson on happiness to his students. While he was planning his lessons he asked me what makes me happy.  He wasn’t searching for a particular answer like “You, dear, of course,” but rather what truly makes me happy.  Without hesitating or overthinking, I said “Staying in the moment.” Once the words were sitting in front of me, I thought long and hard about what that meant.  When I live in the past, it always feels like a slippery slope to nowhere.  Someone once told me that staying in my head is a very dangerous neighborhood to hang out in. You just can’t believe everything you think.  It’s not always the truth. There is absolutely nothing I can do about what may have happened in the past.  I can learn from mistakes, make amends and then move on.  So much easier said than done, but I know for sure, there is no happiness waiting for me in the past.  Then there is living in the future. I know I can plan for the future and still live in the moment.  Planning is very different from obsessing.  I spent a good part of my career working with women on visioning their futures and  creating plans to get there.  I have always created visions for myself, along with a plan, and all of this feels very different from worrying about what lies ahead.  My sister and I laugh about the motto our mother lived by, “If you worry enough, bad things won’t happen.”  We spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about everything.  It did little to no good.  

So here I am, on the precipice of turning 74, knowing that the only thing that makes me happy is living in the moment.  The only truth is what I have before me, right here where my feet are.  Living in the moment is a much more relaxed and happy place to be.  

As I pack up and head home, I know I’ll miss the urban life of Budapest, but that is in the past and what lies before me is my home on a beautiful Island in Maine, my friends, my family, and all the things that bring me happiness.

As I sing my tune on my way home, I will look forward to seeing so many of you and sharing my adventures of the past nine months with joy as I remember where my feet are and appreciate what is right in front of me.

“Home again, home again, jiggety jig.”

With love and gratitude,

Marsha