For the prompt, beauty, from Viewfromtheside.
Apart from my two babies, obviously, the most beautiful view I ever saw was of the green fields of Greater Manchester from the air, as we came into land. I had just left South Africa with my children, practically running on to the plane to get away from the violence that followed in the years after the 1994 election.
When I finally went back for a visit, I cried as we came in to land at Johannesburg, because I was coming home.
What did I get most out of my fourteen years in South Africa? A little crazy.
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Hopefully, you’ve made peace with the experience… SA remains a beautiful country with lots of challenges…
I have; through poetry, mostly
Your perspective on beauty is an oxymoron, and why not. Humans are complex beings.
Jock did his doctorate in Canada, and when he went home after a year away, he was homesick for Canada.
We are indeed complex creatures
Your heart can be tugged in so many ways:
When I get to Gatwick I feel ‘I am here at last”
When I went to Spain i thought ‘I am so happy to be back’
But when I came back to Sofia I thought ‘Thank God I am home safely
Home is where your heart is and where your roots are and where your life is..regardless of where it is in the world
You make an excellent point
The world is so small these days, all you really need is a hat 
You impress me as the type of person who will bloom wherever you are planted, even if it is continents apart.
They should call you Sweet Al! Thank you
What Big Al said.
And when you come back for your next visit, I want you to come to my house for a braai, OK?
Only if you also lay on some of those mouthwatering dishes you’re always showing us
And thanks
What seems to get lost when such conflicts and violence are talked about…is that most countries…if not all…evolved from similar stages of violence…just doesn’t get talked about very much.
That is true; but when you’re living in violence and fear you don’t think much about history
Life’s a journey and we get these concentrated moments every now and then. Returns are funny things. A lot of water has passed underneath the bridge and in another way, none at all.
You are right. I came back to the UK and a whole lot of stuff had passed me by – news, popular culture, etc – yet it was still my home. And wasn’t/isn’t.
When we came back from South Africa (I was 4ish, nearly 5 in the mid-sixties) Ma cried as she had left the jacaranda trees behind to find UK cloaked in an early winter: no leaves and very grey. It was November.
When I visited at the age of about 20 it felt like home, in a strange way. And when we went back a few years ago with our boys I had very mixed feelings. Strange.
Tory Boy used to call them ‘the purple trees’. They were beautiful, and everywhere. I miss them.
We’ve left bits and pieces scattered around in all the places we’ve lived and loved. When we move, something gets left behind.
Literally and metaphorically
South Africa will always be home even for those living abroad.
Ja, boet!