mi casa es...
the places i’ve lived
shawnigan lake → waterloo → lausanne → waterloo → vancouver → san francisco
note the use of “places” and not “homes”.
the summer home
shawnigan lake is where i was born and spent the first 17 years of my life, and variety of summers since. whenever i visit, i play spot-the-difference with myself, and i’m shocked by how many details stick in my brain.
the city village, despite being home to many of my firsts, has never quite been my home.
the home i “chose”
after high school came university, and the first decision i really had to make for my life. based on exactly no prior information, i chose waterloo ontario.
i immediately regretted it.
before the end of my first semester, i was convinced i’d transfer. but then something weird happened. despite hating the cold weather, the distance from the pacific ocean, the misery of the most unaesthetic city i’ve ever set eyes on and the weird way they keep their milk, i started to feel at home.
i found “my” café, “my” study spot, my people, and my person (at the time).
the vacation home
i started to get comfortable, so i decided to do an exchange semester in switzerland.
by virtue of impermanence, this home was distinctly different. i was lucky enough to immediately fall into a group of various international students who were both inspirationally intelligent and tons of fun. it was four months of adventures across different countries, romances and friendships. in the downtime, i was also learning a ton1.
while it will always be special, it was intentionally never my home.
the home i made
when dreams of medical school came to an abrupt end, it was time to find something else. after putting not-that-much thought into it, i landed in vancouver for a msc.
i immediately regretted this decision too.
but not because i disliked the city, or because i was leaving behind my cafe, or my baristas, or my people… choosing to come back to the west coast meant choosing to leave my person. it was a voluntary decision, but the love lost weighed heavy on my soul.
i forced myself to be ok. i started seeing someone new, i started meeting classmates, and things started to look up.
then my person fell back into my life.
and then she went crashing back out.
later that night, amongst all the chaos, a new person fell found their way in.
it must be broken in order to be fixed
i found relative stability in my instability at the time. we broke up and got back together. a pandemic happened. we broke up. i started playing spikeball. we broke up. i published a paper. we broke up. i started making closer friends. we broke up. i graduated. i got a job. i bought an apartment…
stable stability set in. the beach became my second home. my friends were never far away. i had a shortlist of cafés to haunt.
my person fell back into my life2.
is a home a city?
when i reflect on the places i’ve lived, there are few measurable similarities. but when i reflect on the places i’ve called home…
- independently owned cafés with nice baristas, stable internet and power
- proximity to the water and to beaches
- clean, green spaces
- people who rely on me
- a person to rely on, and to challenge me
- an abstract sense of permanence
the __ home
san francisco doesn’t fit into this description. does that mean it will never be “home”?