Is it a physical place where your possessions are? A feeling of comfort and safety? A sense of belonging? Or an emotion of relief, like one entering your home after a time away, that first sigh of arrival, as you plunged on your sofa.
As a serial expat from the no longer existent country, the USSR, the concept of home has been a contentious topic. “Where is your home?” was a frequent question in my almost thirty years of expat life. “Home is where I am”, I used to answer, referring to a place where my things are parked.
The home was in Dubai, Basel, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Moscow, Rotterdam and now The Hague. The change was voluntary, powered by curiosity. And like seasonal changes, you go through the newness of the Summer as unfamiliar scenes, sounds, smells, and tastes overwhelm your sensory apparatus. The Autumn brings an adjustment chill as you search for your place in the new reality. The winter ponders blues and longing for the comforts of life in the place left behind. But the spring reinvigorates your desire to blossom as you notice the new home sprout.
For many years I thought home was our belongings that we, like snails, carried along with us: packing and unpacking, losing some and acquiring others, hoarding and giving away.
And then, on the last move, we had half of our personal effects in storage for two years. I no longer remembered or missed those things, even though, while unpacking souvenir boxes, I could accurately pin each item on the time-place axes of our life.
We were fortunate enough to experience many sighs of arrival. But did we ever belong to those diverse and often very foreign cultures? We sat in the first row of privileged passive observers, claiming neutrality on politics, human rights, freedom of speech, and value systems, learning to accept the multitude of opinions, views, perceptions and notions, even if those were contrary to ours.
After decades on the road, have I realised that home is as much as the physical anchoring as it is a state of mind — a sense of belonging. And one could belong to many tribes and places. Home is an emotional construct on top of a physically sound foundation. Home is a web of interconnectedness that we weave throughout our lives, giving us meaning, fortifying sanity, establishing social grounding, fueling our value system and filling us with purpose.
I left my very first home out of economic despair, but it was my choice. For many, there is no luxury of choice, fleeing war or a natural calamity. And that is a scary thought.
What is home to you?