A long way home…

I haven’t lived in my home town for about 15 years or so. Every time I visited during those years I was happy to leave again.

My husband and I decided to settle here in Jena about a month ago. Funny timing because about a year ago, we decided to move to Germany. Giving it a whirl, to find out whether we would like it.

We had a short 2 months stay in Berlin, but decided that it was too much for us, too many people, too big, too much concrete… And now we have come full circle.

Are we home yet?

Our son Max talks about missing Canada and his friends. He told me the other day that Canada was his home and he wanted to be closer to home. I ended up distracting him, talking about Oma and Opa. Because really, what am I going to say? I would like Canada to be closer too, and I too miss my friends.

But hands down, this place here is still my home, despite my long absence, the remnants of my teenage angst feeling trapped here, closed in somehow. My roots are here.

I also told my son that we are at home where we are together. My rock is my husband. He is my biggest supporter, no matter what I do. And my son is my biggest inspiration to change, to improve, to question, to challenge. So at the end of the day, when I stop. Stop talking, doing, doubting, wondering. When I finally stop and listen to my heart, then I know I am already home. Pulling every sense back inside, resting within me.

Then I am home.