My Book
WANDERING IDENTITY - Beneath a Borrowed sky
“Wandering Identity – Beneath a borrowed sky” is an upcoming story about identity, travel, motherhood, empty nesting, and the art of letting go.
I am fifth generation global nomad, and this story of movement is about my constant search for a place to land, a place to call Home. I am a typical third culture kid (TCK). I grew up all over the world and continued that way of life throughout my adult life. I’m now bringing up four sixth generation global nomad kids who move around the world with us.
I say I am from everywhere and nowhere. So do my kids. This book is about what that looks like to have grown up without a place to call Home, a place to belong to. It’s also about all the beautiful countries and cultures that I’ve had the privilege to live in and learn about.
It’s about motherhood but particularly about raising global kids in this transient environment and the consequences it can have on them as they develop their characters without a place to identify with.
I will also explore the differences between my upbringing vs. my kid’s upbringing.
Whether you are an intrepid traveler, or an armchair traveler, Home is a feeling. Of being loved and accepted for who you are. It’s family, and a feeling of belonging.
No matter what your story is, your Home is where you can be your true self.
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The Shaping of a Global Identity
Most people identify with one place as home; the place they were born, where they grew up and occasionally stayed on into adult life. “Where are you from?” is the standard question that is asked every time we meet someone new in order to place that person into their...
A close call – Zambia: Part 3
Road trips were an occurring theme during my childhood. Despite the trials and tribulations that came with living in hardship countries, my parents always managed to fit in one or two memorable ones. This particular road trip was when we were living in Lusaka, Zambia....
Security, dagga and camo – Zambia: Part 2
Wellie was put to sleep a few days later. It was one of the hardest things we have ever had to do. In a quick phone call, due to Wellie’s formidable stature and surprisingly quick deterioration in temperament, Dad agreed with the vet that we would donate...
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