Where do you come from?
Where Are You From?
Its past midnight and the words won’t come. No, they do come, but they don’t say what I want….
I’ve lived in Ireland for more than 2/3rds of my life but was born in England and left there in my early 20s.
We had lived in many different places as a family together, in England, the 4 of us, moving every 2 or 3 years. The family was home and where we lived was home.
Now I like the excitement of a new place. Getting the measure of it. Hunting for treasure.
In the 40+ years I’ve been here, in Ireland, I’ve lived in 3 places, but the word ‘home’ now conjures up the place my children grew up in, where the back door was never locked and people came and went all the time. It brings back the main room with children messing about and people around the table at dinner.
Two other quite random places feel like home. A friend’s terraced house — the first time I walked through the front door it felt like home. And a cafe in Brighton! It must be the smell of it; of food and people!There’s no house that’s a family home in England, but, when I get off the plane at Gatwick and onto the train, I relax into that comfort of being home again.When I get off the plane at Knock (Co.Mayo), I feel ‘ Well, here I am again!’ It’s strange, just different!
It’s not simple, this home stuff. It’s not about where you want to be, or what is most familiar, or where your friends or parents or children are, or where your heart is….although I like the last one best. It’s simple, portable and you can’t neglectfully leave it behind.