Home is where, when you cross its threshold, you finally feel at peace.

–  Dennis Lehane

One of the hardest questions for me to answer is “Where are you from?” Or maybe the variation of this: “Where’s home for you?”

The longest consecutive time I have spent in any one house was in a small rented cottage in England. I spent my first years of marriage there and my first child was born while we lived there. But it wouldn’t be the first place that comes to mind when I think of home.


I was born in Saskatchewan, Canada. I spent my first and last years of school as well as University there. Saskatchewan kind of feels like home, but not fully. And if someone met me and heard me speak they would not likely guess I was from there.

I spent many of my formative growing up years in Afghanistan. I have many fond memories of time in this country. Every time I return I feel a joy and sense of familiarity. Yet I am not an Afghan and it is not my country.

Lal February 010

When I picture “home” in my mind’s eye I see a series of snapshots, moments from my childhood and beyond. A family meal. Playing with siblings. Reading together around a wood stove. Being tucked in to a warm bed. But these moments took place in different locations that could hardly be further apart.

I suppose this is the curse of the traveller. Or the blessing depending on how you look at it. Home is simultaneously a place that is familiar and a place that is always somewhere else. It is something that I have experienced in many parts of the world, and perhaps because of this is more deeply associated with family than location.

Home is a scattered trail of breadcrumbs, each one a familiar memory, yet leading to a place I have yet to experience.

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?


3 thoughts on “Home

  1. A poignant post, struggling to express the longing nostalgia looking back along with the longing hope looking forward–both of which are included in the concept of Home. I loved that last thought: “Home is a scattered trail of breadcrumbs, each one a familiar memory, yet leading to a place I have yet to experience.” Beautiful!!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s