Home
There is a line in a song I know that goes, "There's a place that will stay within me, wherever I may choose to go." I never thought that that place would one day be to me a city two flights and a continent away from home.
Home for me had always been the place where I was born and had lived all my life. I'd never lived abroad growing up. I'd never had the chance to study overseas or go on any exchange programmes. Before my move, the longest holiday I had was about two weeks long (I was homesick by day ten), and the furthest place I'd been to was a seven-hour flight away.
My stay of almost two years in a city with a six-and-sometimes-seven-hour time difference has been the longest and furthest I've been from home. I was homesick for the first eight months and only found my rhythm after a year away. Living abroad was much, much harder than I had originally anticipated.
On the last night of an extremely spontaneous trip to London the same month that I returned, we ate at a Chinese restaurant and ended up chatting with one of the servers there. There was an instant warmth and connection once we found out about our roots—we were next-door neighbours, and he had once lived and worked in our homeland.
The man talked about the challenges he faced living abroad. He talked about the experience of having his children grow up in London, of speaking to them in Mandarin and having them speak only English in reply. He talked about how he would still convert British pounds to his home currency even after twenty years in London. He talked about how London was only his home for the present moment.
We could readily identify with many of the things that came up in conversation. Who could have understood what we had gone through but someone who had shared a similar experience? I had agreed then that W was to me only a city that we were passing through.
And yet, even though that remains unchanged, I find myself pining for W—for my other home and life, the one that I left behind. Life has been so hectic lately that I haven't had time to think. But sometimes my thoughts drift to W and I find myself suddenly emotional. In those moments, I immediately seek out distractions to distance myself from the unexpected feelings that arise, because I don't feel like I can afford the time and energy to cry or feel sad—there's just too much on my plate right now.
I really do miss my home and life in W. This city grew on me even though there were many things I did not like about it. Because I got used to it; I grew into it. It's like I left a part of me in W, and maybe, maybe that place will always be—home.