“Home may be in another time and place, and yet it holds us in its power here and now.” (Chamberlin, 76).
My perception of home is quite ambiguous. It’s abstract and tangible, it’s plural and continuously expanding over time. As Pico lyer told in his TED talk, “home are many pieces which we bring together; what connects all these pieces is me.”
On the one hand, I associate my home with physical locations and spaces, where I lived and which I remember. My earliest home memory is about a small studio rented by my mom until I was eight. The studio had just one window, but what a fantastic view it provided! I could spend hours sitting on the window sill, looking down on the ever-hurrying people, signaling cars, pigeons occupying power lines, windows of the condominium across the street.
I had my own secret home in our studio, right under the couch. That was a really bewitched spot because adults couldn’t see it, and I often found candies, cookies, or oranges in the little FedEx box attached to the bottom of the couch. I think of my girl-friends’ home as my own home. My jammies and toothbrush were always there for me. My neighbor’s apartment was also my home. A sweet old couple (Ms. and Mr. Frolov), retired teachers, lived there. When I began to go to school, they insisted me to do homework in their place, because there was no space for a desk in our studio, where I could study. I’m very fortunate because I’ve always had multiple places where I could go to and which I call my ‘home’ without hesitation.
On the other hand, home for me is a special state of mind when I am comfortable, relaxed, and can be myself. I may also feel relaxed, safe and comfortable in new places, but it will take a while before I can call that or the other place as one more home in my life. This is why the sense of familiarity is one more component that contributes to my definition of home.
What does make me feel firmly attached to some places more than the others? I’m sure it’s people. People made those places meaningful to me, deepest inside me, and so desirable to be in. When as a child, I was sitting on the window sill of our studio, I was waiting for my mom to come back from work. Whenever she entered our yard, she raised her head and motioned to me. I couldn’t see her face from a distance, but I knew that she was smiling. My heart fills with happiness when I recall my seventh birthday party. My friends’ parents hosted it in their apartment, because there was not enough room for all my friends in my place. Also, when I was doing my homework in the neighbors’ apartment, Frolovs were there to help me, offer snacks or tell the stories.
Their stories were my reward and motivation to be efficient with my homework. Frolovs shared their stories only after I finished all the homework and if it was not too late to stay longer in their place. They told me the stories of their life, how they met each other, raised their children, worked together in the same school for nearly 50 years. When I returned home, I asked my mom to tell her life stories, about games she played when she was little, fights with her brother, family stories she heard from her parents. When my girl-friend came to my place, we crawled under the couch and shared the stories from our parents. So, the stories which connect me with my home are family stories and stories from other people who I know and love; their stories are about their life, their concerns and hopes. This is why my sense of home is associated with people I met there, with whom I shared my happy moments.
Susan Clayton, an environmental psychologist, makes a comparison of Western and South Asia viewpoints on a home. She claims that in the West, people feel a sentimental or nostalgic attachment to the places they’ve lived; in the end, they see them as separate from their inner selves. For many South Asian communities, people and the places where they reside are engaged in a continuing set of exchanges, they are part of a single, interactive system. In other words, home is where you are and who you are. The latter concept is closer to my sense of home because, for me, it’s as the integrity of physical place, people who reside there, and the state of mind. All of that form our identity, embody how we live and see ourselves.
Works Cited
Beck, Julie. “The Psychology of Home: Why Where You Live Means So Much.” The Atlantic, Atlantic Media Company, 29 Dec. 2011, Web. 25 Jan. 2020. https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2011/12/the-psychology-of-home-why-where-you-live-means-so-much/249800/.
Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?:Finding Common Ground. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2004. Print.
TEDtalksDirector. “Pico Iyer: Where Is Home?” YouTube. YouTube, 2013. Web. 24 Jan. 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3m6dV7Xo3Vc