My state ID just came in the mail and now the “home” tally based on government-issued identifications is three: Indonesia, Singapore and Wisconsin. It’s a more accurate reflection on what “feels” like home: all of it, and yet none of it. Being in one place only feels a fraction of home—whenever I’m in one place, it isn’t long before the yearning for another kicks in. While all this sounds like third-culture kid mumbo jumbo (and perhaps an issue of Denizen magazine), I’m forever grateful for the experience of moving around and learning to adapt to a new place at a young age. It can however, at times, produce uncontrollably strong urges to pack boxes and GTFO. The disorientation of a new place can be comforting. I think I’ve got a case of Holly Golightly. 
