Ever since I went to university (way, way back in the mists of time now... 1996 I think) I have had a set of keys on me. At uni these were the keys to my accommodation block (Unit 3, Badock Hall) and to my room (I forget now.. 217?). Then I had house keys, work keys, and car keys.
A key in my pocket has always been a solid reminder that I have somewhere to go that is mine. A base. Space, to which only I have the (sometimes shared) access. After all, I have the key.
But last Tuesday we gave our (borrowed) house keys back to Kate and Doug, got in a car (thanks James) and were driven to a hotel (and they gave us a swipe card for our room). It was 24 or so hours later, in Severna Park, when we were given our new (borrowed) house key.
In that 24 hour period, I walked around without a key in my pocket and felt it.
