“Once you leave your home country, you will never come back again. Either no place will be home or everywhere can be home.”
In pursuit of a sense of being “home” at heart in this big and lonely planet
First time I heard about this was from a random chat with a mid-aged Belgium woman who moved back to her home country, almost the same block away from her birthplace, after spending her entire life moving around. It was a mid-summer afternoon in 2017, at her backyard garden attached to an old school house in the center of Brussels. I felt my Goosebumps instantly and I wanted to walk from the end of coordinator to hug her and to tell her how much I feel the same way.
Home is gradually becoming a place that is so close yet so far way ever since I moved away from my hometown Shanghai 8 years ago. The trip back home is always a journey with the mixed feelings — anticipation, nostalgia, and some kind of disappointment. On the one side, I enjoy the sense of familiarity that home has brought to me, the joy to hang out with old friends for reminiscent old times, to taste always unique xiaolong bao and bond with my 90-years-old grandma over Mah-jong. I always thought the antonym for Home is the World — yes, escape the home in order to see the world. The world is full of surprises, excitements and heartbroken stories when I am venturing outside, at the same time when home is no longer the same anymore. As no one can step into the same river twice, for other waters are continually flowing on — the old buildings tore down, parents getting old, and childhood friend lost in touch.
I have enjoyed the state of “homeless” and tried to reconcile the conflicting emotions in my heart of staying at home and exploring the world. The balance starts to be tilted when COVID-19 happened. The lockdown cuts the last possibility to return to the physical location of my hometown, at least not in the near future. I have never felt that home is so far away especially when it is out of reach. Now I have this slow, intensifying ache in the pit of my stomach everyday. It’s a familiar feeling, but not one I’m particularly used to. I guess it is called homesickness.
Amidst lock down, I have been searching for other senses of belonging and existence when the material home is unattainable. The home can be where my heart is, then I just need to know how to place it properly. Some days are more difficult than the others. Sometimes I lose sense of time and start to ask myself — do I truly exist? If yes, what’s the impact of me to this world?
I went for a close friend’s zoom birthday party today. I’ve known her for years and she helped me go through a few difficult moments of life. I made a little speech, just small words about how much she has always been a good friend, nothing compared to what she has done. Over the screen, both of us busted into tears, together with her families and friends. It was a 1 hour of cry with joys. That’s the time I realized I come to understand the second half of what that Belgium lady meant to say — everywhere can be home. Strange enough, I felt being home on the zoom. Suddenly I feel I have the whole world with me in my heart, then no matter where I go I could make everyplace a home.
Home is like a bubble destined to universal love.
To be continued.
