My home is a complicated in-between. Home is a sense of family, of security in the knowledge that someone is always there to support you. But my blood family is far from where I live, where I have carved out a little slice of the world to create a home for myself. I still say that I’m going “home” for Christmas, even though I haven’t lived in California for three years. That home is where my parents live, where I grew up, the sidewalks drenched in memories of childhood, friendship, and adventure.
But I have new sidewalks now, a familiar unknown, the mountains a constant presence to the north, a comforting reassurance that I know where I am, and I know where I’m going. Here, I have found friendship in strangers, and started to paint the walls with new memories.
I have always loved travelling, and this summer, I went on a month long trip to Europe. I visited Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, London, and Scotland. In each city, I explored this place that was home to so many others, and in Scotland in particular, I was told so many stories that all came together to form a strong sense of Scottish identity. I spent that time listening to these stories in Scotland with my mother and brother, and with my best friend from high school. I had family with me, and my entire life I believed that family was enough to make anywhere a home.
For the first two weeks, I was so caught up in the adventure, in the new places and new people that I didn’t notice what was missing. Like Huffington Post blogger Sascha Jones, I, too, “have been blessed with the family I have. They have always made me feel united, connected, supported and loved. I realise that not everyone experiences this with blood ties, however family can also include an extended clan, a group of people where an unconditional love and connection exist.” Despite being with the people I’d grown up with, who’d made Alameda my home for the first 18 years of my life, I was lacking that sense of rightness, of home.
I’ve always read in stories and heard in songs that home is a person, or people. As the famous Canadian Justin Bieber says, “we could be homeless,” but it’ll all be okay “as long as you love me,” because our relationship is all the home we need to be happy.
What I’ve discovered, though, is that home is a culmination of things. True, it has a lot to do with the people you surround yourself with, your tribe, a term popularized by Sebastian Junger’s book Tribe. And that can be enough to make a home. But I’ve found recently that, for me, it is just as important to be in the right city.
I was sitting on a hostel bed in Amsterdam, looking at messages from my friends and all their photos of Vancouver moments, when I realized something significant. On this grand journey across another continent, I found I was, for the first time in my life, homesick. It wasn’t tear-inducing, or frightening, but it was important, because no matter how much I travel, which I fully intend to do, I will always come back to Vancouver.
Vancouver is by no means a utopia, but this vibrant city sandwiched between mountains and ocean has so many pockets that are glimpses into another world, and when I look at Vancouver from the roof of my house on the top of a hill, all I can see for miles are treetops and rooftops standing side by side.
My love affair with Vancouver has allowed me to find my own home, independent of the family who raised me.
Alameda will always be my childhood home, where I learned to read on Tintin comics and picture books, where I first encountered the feeling of that desire to write, to create a story for others, where I had my first kiss and where my parents got divorced and where I learned to drive.
But Vancouver is also my home, where I learned the power of words, where I reaffirmed my passion for theatre, and sharing those stories with others, where I first kissed a girl and where I had to say goodbye to my best friend and where I learned so much about myself as an individual person.
Both places are full of memories, and stories of my life, and stories I found and loved. Both places have people that love and support me. Both places are my home.
To be simultaneously at home and away from home is a strange mixture of nostalgia and excitement for the future, but it is an in-between place that I am thankful for. I may be in-between two homes, but at least I have somewhere I know I belong.
I leave you with the song that inspired the title: “One Great City!” by the Weakerthans. The key line that is repeated throughout the song is “I hate Winnipeg,” but I hear it as a love song for the city they’re from, despite all its flaws.
WORKS CITED
Crawford, Matthew B.”Sebastian Junger’s ‘Tribe’.” The New York Times. 27 May 2016. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.
Hodkinson, Jessie. “As Long As You Love Me Lyrics.” A-Z Lyrics. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.
Jones, Sascha. “Finding Your Tribe.” Huffington Post. 28 Sept. 2015. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.
Kabiri Nika. “The Value of Finding Your Tribe.” Huffington Post. 1 August 2016. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.
TheLastGoodName. “The Weakerthans – One Great City!” Online Video Clip. Youtube, 4 Sept. 2010. Web. Accessed 26 Sept. 2016.