The existential emptiness of keyless moments

I don't belong anywhere in those minutes, hours, or days without a key

This week I realized that I don't have a key in my pocket when I'm moving from one place to another. I don't belong anywhere in those minutes, hours, or days without a key. I had already noticed this, but this time it hit me with an existential emptiness.

Photo by rc.xyz NFT gallery on Unsplash

How can such a small object have such a gigantic meaning? Having a key to call your own defines whether you have a home or not. In keyless moments, I am vulnerable. And if I can't get into the new Airbnb, where will I go? I'll be stuck with my suitcases, it will be horrible. And what if my bag gets lost during those keyless moments? Or if I get robbed? If you have a home, you go back to it (to cry or get pissed off, but you go back) with the rest of your entire life there. My entire life is my bag.

Once, it almost happened that I was left abandoned. My accommodation got wrong eight hours before reaching my destination. I was going from Rio to São Paulo. Luckily, I was talking to a friend who kindly offered me his living room until I found a new place to stay.

I was lucky to be heading to my home base, São Paulo, where I lived for 14 years and have many friends. But what if this happens in a distant place? I'll have to find a last-minute hotel and spend a lot of money.

This reflection made me think about the homeless people who don't have a permanent key, at least for a while. They endure cold, hunger, and fear. I don't have a key by my own choice, which puts me in a position of privilege. Life can be cruel.

Therefore, the next time you, a non-nomad, leave your house and put the key in your pocket, a seemingly ordinary act we hardly notice, know that it carries precious meaning.