Where’s home?

Home is here. Home is now.

Home is Palma today, Hartwell tomorrow, Barcelona on Sunday.

Home is where I am. Home is where I’m not, where my family is, where my friends are. But where are they?


Home is Wolverhampton, the house I grew up in, the one my brother still lives in, except for when he doesn’t, when he’s driving his truck around the country five days a week. The city where my best friend lives, with her partner and their new baby. My things, in the attic. But not all of them.

Home is Hartwell, the place I stay when I go back to the UK now, my aunt, my uncle, my cousins. A village in the beautiful English countryside, a place I’ve got to know so much better this year.

Home is my official address, the one I share with my mum, my grandma, my uncle. Where all of my documents go. Where my grandy was and is and always will be in my memory.

Home is England, land of my birth, land of my family, land of the language which my life revolves around.


Home is where I am right now: Palma, Mallorca, finishing a CELTA course. An apartment just outside the ring road which replaced the city walls, within walking distance of the school which rents it for students studying Spanish. Next month it will be someone else’s home.

Home will be Barcelona and Bydgoszcz and who knows where else?

Around the world



Home has been on four continents: Pfreimd, Borneo, Asunción, Metz, Ardingly, Brno, Newcastle, Leeds, San Diego, Vancouver, Chiang Mai. All home at one time or another. Many in multiple times and places.


Home is Sevastopol, caught between what has been and what will be. Where my things are. But not all of them.


Home is Durham, the place I return to again and again. A place I fell in love with on my uni open day, when I imagined myself there as a student two years in the future and twelve in the past. Where my favourite building is, a cathedral that I can’t get enough of, holding so many memories for me, and more every time I go back, but not to live, never to live, unless in the houses facing the cathedral across the river, homes I might one day retire to. How many other homes in between?

Jungle, summer school, hotel and hostel

Home is my hammock in the jungle, my room for summer school, a canal boat or a cottage for a holiday.

Home is my hotel for a few nights, my flat for a month, my house for a year.

Home is my bedroom, the place I sleep at night. Home is my kitchen, where I cook what I can’t buy. Home is my suitcase, which comes with me everywhere.

Home is the internet, carried in my computer around the world. My friends online and off who I know are there for me, wherever I am. Other people’s homes waiting for me when I travel, welcoming me in with open arms, sharing their lives, their time, their kitchens.

Home is my photos, my memories, the space inside my head.

Home is tears, sickness, sadness. Home is distance. Home is a thought you hold in your head, a place to return to, ephemeral.

Home is laughter, happiness, health. Home is intimacy. Home is a thought you make real, a place you create, personal.

Home is a dream. A dream of a family, a husband, a home of our own. Where my things are. All of them. The things I buy for my future home to remind me of this time when home is everywhere. The cross stitch I do now to go on my wall then. A dream of stability, of health, of happiness. A dream of a future, who knows where, who knows when.

Come in and make yourself at home.

[inspired by Lemn Sissay’s Homecoming]

13 thoughts on “Where’s home?

  1. This is such a lovely post. Those of us connected by our ever-increasing and supportive PLN around the world can all feel part of this, Sandy. Thank you for putting into words what many of us feel at some time or another.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s difficult to say what “home” is….. But it is true that as time passes by, “home” gets closely linked to your background, your origins. That was not something I could think of when I was “younger”….

    Nice post! Thanks, you’ve made me think

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow what a great post – reflective and descriptive. Home for me is my base at the time of thinking about home. Currently the place where I sleep every night, not where most of my stuff is as that is many miles away. Possessions are not home, but having your key possessions with you helps to make a home.


  4. Hi Sandy,
    I love this post!!! So nice, I think I am gonna write one of these, too. Thanks for the inspiration!!!!


  5. Qué bonitoooooo!!!! es precioso!! me encanta leerte pero muchas veces no tengo tiempo, but I really really enjoy it.
    Hope you have a great time in Mallorca.
    A big hug from Segovia!


  6. This is beautiful, it’s brought a tear to my eye. I have had a very different experience of “home” from yours, especially in the past 10 years, when we’ve been here, bedding in, doing the doings of life in one place, and you’ve been off around the world.


  7. Hola Sandy, te sigo desde hace tiempo, te admiro mucho, pienso que eres una profesora excelente y también excelente persona y leyendo esta entrada me he sentido un poco triste.
    Supongo que estás feliz, supongo que tu trabajo es muy importante para ti, para mí también lo es, que soy profesora también, pero creo que hay un momento en nuestras vidas que el trabajo no debe ser lo más importante y pasar a un segundo plano. Te digo ésto porque por tus palabras (puede que esté equivocada) pienso que necesitas ya tener un hogar y parar ya de viajar tanto.
    Escribo en español porque sé que lo entiendes y porque a estas horas de la noche (que no puedo dormir) no puedo pensar en inglés tampoco.

    Un beso grande y all the best for you!

    Liked by 1 person

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