When Does Start To Feel Like Home?

There are moments when I find myself acutely aware of being non-British, and with them comes a slight sense of disbelonging.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that I wish to obscure the fact that I am an American; quite the contrary.  But as England is our new home, I relish those instances in which one feels as though one fits right in.  Moments in which there has never been a hint of discomfort, and more -- moments in which there is a feeling of perfect serendipitous oneness with this adopted home.

So it was late yesterday evening, as the sun began to set at 9:00, and the landscape was bathed with a warm, golden light so lovely at the dusk of spring and summer days.  The boys had been delightful in their bath, and had been tucked in with two chapters from their beloved Wind in the Willows.  While I had been reading to them, my wife had tidied up the living room, and I came downstairs feeling contentment rather than tiredness at the end of the day.

I fixed myself a healthy measure of Maccalan, and came into the living room -- and there, through the window, saw the late, low light casting a rich honey-coloured alpine glow on the castle and cathedral.  Being Thursday, at 9:00 the cathedral bells began tolling, as the bell ringers engaged in their regular weekly rehearsal.  And as I stood there, warmed from reading steadfast stories to my children and from the malt whisky in my tumbler, looking at my beautiful wife and beyond her, through the window at the landscape of this new land, I experienced the chorale of cathedral bells in harmony with the late evening sun.  This, this now, is home.

     ~ Mark

Actually, the true trick is in it feeling like home when everything isn't perfect and wonderful.

Actually, the true trick is in it feeling like home when everything isn't perfect and wonderful.

Oh, I'm sure.  But it's lovely to have those moments when they are.

I've moved more times than I like to think about with my job...and it usually took about 1 to 2 years before a place felt like home.  It came when I was comfortable getting around the area & surrounding area, when I knew just where to find those bargains & where to shop for those things I wanted, when I felt that I had found a few friends and when I looked forward to returning when leaving.  I've only been here for about 10 months and am slowly beginning to feel like London is home...but I expect that next year, I'll fully feel it.  Particularly if I end up getting another contract to remain in my job...

I had a moment like that just the other day, only a little more pedestrian, without the whiskey and castles and bells.

I've lived here 5 years now, have a 4 year old daughter and am in the home stretch of expecting our second child. Right now my little family is in a cocoon awaiting the birth of our newest member, so everything is tinged with a sort of sweetness.

We've had a run of beautiful May weather, sunny days that are stretching longer into the evening, giving the kids in the street the taste of summer to come. We live in an urban working class estate. My daughter had been out playing all day; the afternoon punctuated with the laughs and screeches and chatter of the kids. Around 7 I called her in for her bath and bed. The sun was hitting the crest of the hill behind us, not quite sunset, but getting that last glow. I ran her bath, filled the tub with bubbles and her toys, and went into our room to put some music on. Jim Croce.

Now, for me, Jim Croce is the soundtrack to my childhood. It's what my parents listened to when I was little, and has the ability to instantly take me back to that sense of time and family. And now here I was, the mommy, expecting, and giving my daughter her memories. I thought about how her childhood was rooted here in Belfast; how when we were in California recently visiting my family and my dad asked her did she want to stay there and she was so definite about coming home to Belfast -- she loved California but this is her home. I thought about the way we were sharing the opposite end of the same memory being shaped in the moment -- her in the bath playing, the light in the house that late sun yellow (which always seems to be the best in childhood memories), golden, me puttering between the bathroom and the other rooms tidying and singing along with Jim Croce.

And I stopped for a moment, and it was almost as if time was something that just revolved, wasn't something that was lost forever, and I knew this to be home.

That was gorgeous, Stella Marie!  I've totally got baby fever and you just stoked the flames a bit more! 

That was gorgeous, Stella Marie!  I've totally got baby fever and you just stoked the flames a bit more! 

I'd be happy for you to have a loan of my all-day morning sickness if you'd like  .

Well THAT'S not gorgeous!  I think I'll pass on that kind offer.      

Yes but at the end of it you get a wonderful baby who gives you the ticket to childhood -- it's worth it. 

Yes but at the end of it you get a wonderful baby who gives you the ticket to childhood -- it's worth it. 

That's one way to look at it.

The only place I've been in that didn't feel like home was the US, so I count myself blessed that I have truly cherished every day I've been here. 

Yes but at the end of it you get a wonderful baby who gives you the ticket to childhood -- it's worth it.

Babies become teenagers - want to borrow mine?

Well said both of you.  

I often have moments in my life where I just freeze the moment.  Places and events that are just etched permanently in your mind.  It's so important to live in the present and to realize that no matter where you are or what you are doing it's the people in your life that matter most.

Thanks for sharing one of your special moments.

Babies become teenagers - want to borrow mine?

Thanks, but I've got some of my own to look forward too (plus some stepkids that are just emerging on the otherside of teenagerism). 

On the other hand, once they pass through it and become human again, the rewards of the adult relationship that develops (especially after the grandkids come) are sweet, too. And so the cycle continues

(Don't mind me, I am in that late pregnancy glow right now so probably a little too clap-happy about the joys of family and children and stuff  )

(Don't mind me, I am in that late pregnancy glow right now so probably a little too clap-happy about the joys of family and children and stuff  )

Can't say I've experienced it myself.  More like, 'Can I have this baby now so I can eat again?' (I developed an esophageal ulcer from acid reflux in the 3rd trimester).  A ride in an old banger down windy, narrow country roads did the trick.

But I'll take your word for it!

I fixed myself a healthy measure of Maccalan, and came into the living room -- and there, through the window, saw the late, low light casting a rich honey-coloured alpine glow on the castle and cathedral.  Being Thursday, at 9:00 the cathedral bells began tolling, as the bell ringers engaged in their regular weekly rehearsal.  And as I stood there, warmed from reading steadfast stories to my children and from the malt whisky in my tumbler, looking at my beautiful wife and beyond her, through the window at the landscape of this new land, I experienced the chorale of cathedral bells in harmony with the late evening sun.  This, this now, is home.

You have a lovely life, Mark!

For me, I sort of felt that sense of belonging from the beginning. But it really hits home when people stop me to ask directions and I can actually help them!