A picture taken on the ferry back home to England a few days before Easter.
We had driven through the night to Dunkirk, having typically left it too late to book any decent flights back. A drive at disgustingly unsociable hours, but one that made for an easier journey with/for the baby at least – not yet used to the mile covering that his older siblings are.
My share of the drive was a breeze – there’s something completely satisfying about covering vast stretches of empty autobahn whilst your family slumber on around you – watching as the distance diminishes on the GPS, and looking forward to the things to come back at home.
The ferry journey there wasn’t particularly memorable (although for a ferry company trying to up its game at being family friendly, it could have done with a decent baby changing room and somewhere quiet to feed the baby, but that’s another story!), the boat rocked about a bit as you might expect on a March sea, and there was the usual faint whiff of vomit intermingled with that of the customary “it will settle your stomach” English Breakfast freight drivers swear by (apparently – a couple of them told me when I was queueing for tea!). But, for me at least, this was a special journey, one to transport the baby back to England for the very first time – a place that holds the biggest chunk of his family, plus the tangled torn up roots of his parents and those of his siblings. Home.
As we approached the harbour, his sister suggested we took a photo to commemorate his first visit. It would be symbolic with the white cliffs as a back drop, and we could recount the reasons for taking it if and when he asks one day. Except that it didn’t exactly turn out as the image I had planned in my head – the dirty windows of the ferry saw to that, as did the distance… The cliffs looked barely distinguishable, and the sea a strange colour thanks to the early morning light. But there’s that little round head of his next to that of his sister’s with her sleep tussled hair… She patiently held him on her knee and told him about a country he didn’t yet know, but that she was as excited to see as much as I was.
I posted the half-baked image on Instagram, where it attracted a good few thought-provoking comments from Expats and non-Expats alike. It made me think – how can a place be home if you have never lived there before? Is home something you inherit? Is it something passed down from a shared history and the stories of family members, or through the dishes prepared by your mother, the music you grow up listening to and/or the books that you read? Does all of the above combined (and more) lead to a feeling of familiarity and a sense of belonging when you visit? Is a sense of home something you begin to understand when you land in the country listed on your passport even if you haven’t lived there before? Or, if you are born abroad does a sense of belonging and “normality” only exist away from the place of your forefathers? Is it usual that children of Expats feel it only normal to carry on that life one day themselves?
I have friends who are incredibly lucky in that home to them is always where their immediate family are and nowhere else, not for them any sentimentality about my small green island – I am quite jealous of that. But England will always be my home wherever we are, and as he probably won’t be too old by the time we return for good, I am pretty sure it will be as significant to the baby as it has always been to his older siblings.
It is intriguing though, is it hard for third culture children to truly call anywhere home? If you are a TCK yourself where do you consider home if anywhere at all? Is it a land for you, or a group of people? Do you celebrate the fact that you are a free spirit and can put down roots anywhere without any problem, or do you secretly hold a grudge against your parents for setting you off along on this path? Divulge if you will!?
For now though, this picture will remain (for me at least), a commemoration of the baby’s first trip back to England. Home.
Ninjacat says
As a toddler I was transported from my tiny island in Scotland to England
Xx
I loved reading this
Emma says
Thanks Claire!
A Patchwork Life says
Great post Emma and really interesting replies. I think Home is straightforward enough when you’re young, and then gets more and more muddled. Never thought I’d end up in Herefordshire – hadn’t even been before I met my husband, but I feel so content here, so settled – and yet I call Northern Ireland home. That’s where I grew up and where my family is. I have no desire to move back, but it’s such a big part of me, so suppose it’ll always be home.
Emma says
Thank you Tracey. Interesting how the concept of home can make us feel isn’t it?
Sonya Cisco says
OOh it is complicated isn’t it – is our home their home if they don’t live there? I live in the same country, but a different town to where I was bought up. My home town is home. It is where may parents live and where I grew up. My eldest also calls it her home town as we lived there until she was 7 – but we have been in our new town for 13 years, my youngest two were born here – so I guess this is there home! I can imagine it is more complex still when home is in a different country!
Emma says
So so complicated! Thanks Sonya! (:
Sonia says
I’ve always believed that “Home is where my Mum is” and still is to this day. I hope my kids feel like that when they are as old as I am :)
Lovely photo – I hope baby enjoy’s his first visit home :O)
Emma says
That’s a lovely way to think of it! Thanks Sonia! (:
Grace says
It all comes back to the good old saying ‘home is where the heart is’! Great idea for a post and some lovely replies. x
Emma says
Thanks Mum xxx
Cass@frugalfamily says
What a lovely photo and the sentiment behind it is beautiful!
I wonder where he’ll consider home to be when he’s older – to me, home is wherever my family are x
Emma says
Thanks so much Cass! Me too, but not just my husband and children and that’s part of the problem! :D
Kara Guppy says
I have always lived in the UK but half my life in Sussex and the other half in Dorset. I always get nostalgic when I visit Sussex and I love looking around all my old haunts
Emma says
I love doing that too when we are home! Thanks Kara! (:
angela hamilton says
Where it is not something I know the answer to it does pose a very interesting question. For me home is Scotland but at the same time I have a very strange, strong connection to Ireland for some reason and if I was to move somewhere else it would be there
Emma says
Thank you Angela! (:
Rachel says
Here in the States, our country is so big and vast…that some states are as different as countries, minus the language. I am a Texan, not living there, and it makes me sad. My children were born there, but have very little memory of it. Being a Texan is so important to me and it feels weird to think my children will consider themselves Arizonian. I could only imagine what it would be like if we were in a different country!!!
Emma says
Thank you Rachel. I can understand that it must be equally difficult even though you are in the same country. America is massive isn’t it?
Anne says
I can understand why the photo means so much to you. I’m a person who has not only lived in the same country all my life, but also the same city. I can understand your ties to your homeland, I guess things would be different for your children who spend the start of their lives somewhere else?
Emma says
Thank you Anne! :) Time will tell…
Rachel @ The Ordinary Lovely says
I think home is where you have your happiest memories and the sense of familiarity which makes everything that little bit easier. We’ve been back for over two years now, and I still smile when I drive past my old school and the pub we used to sneak in to a few months before we turned 18. I’ve never been particularly nostalgic but sometimes, I think it’s important as those memories make you who you are today. I hope you had a lovely time back at home xxx
Emma says
Thank you Rachel, we really had a lovely time back at home xxx
Midlife Singlemum says
At the moment my DD knows that I am English and that all her family live in London. I’m not sure what she considers herself to be. Watch this space – she’s only 7 atm but I am interested to see if she turns out to be a TCK-type or just an Israeli with an immigrant mum. The thing about the area of Jerusalem where we live is that half her class are first generation Israelis and they are bi-lingual (or tri-lingual) covering about 12 different languages. The difference between TCKs and us is that we are immigrants and we will not be moving to other countries in the future (although I don’t rule out a sojourn back in the UK while DD is still a child).
Emma says
Thanks Rachel, it will be interesting to see what she considers herself to be when she’s older. I am always quite jealous of those that have decided that somewhere else is home. Not being able to put down roots is so annoying! :D
Trish says
England has always been my home as I have never lived anywhere else but, on a regional level, I still feel a strong association with the North East even though I’ve lived more years away from it. Maybe it’s because family still live there? Yet I also feel Lincolnshire is my home – maybe I just have old and new homes. In your case, because I presume you have lived longer in the UK than anywhere else, I think it entirely reasonable to feel you are coming home when you reach UK soil.
As for your children, you’ll maybe have to wait until they are older for them to appreciate all the countries they have lived in but with a large family network in England, I think it will always be very special for them.
Emma says
Thank you Trish. Time will tell xx
susanna says
Thought provoking and very relevant to me. My guess is that early childhood memories are important to feeling at “home”. The flip side of course is how people see you. I’ve lived in the UK more than half my life. But do people see me as British?
Emma says
Hmm interesting. I guess you are in theory more British than American now having lived there for so long, but I guess you will always be seen as American as that’s where you are from. So funny how it differs on who you talk to isn’t it?
Stephs Two Girls says
So many questions! Difficult ones too :) My Dad is Welsh and he always used to say as we grew up (in England) that you are half whatever nationality your Dad is. Would love to be able to call Wales home as it’s such a gorgeous country, but it’s not and it wasn’t. Home was the place where I grew up – until I had my own family, and now home is wherever they are :)
Emma says
Thanks Steph. I am half Yorkshire in that case! :D
Eline @ Emmy + LIEN says
Ooh this gave me goosebumps! Such an interesting question for anyone who moves around, and one I really don’t have the answer to.
Neither my husband nor myself ever moved back to our parents’ home countries, and neither of us really like the question “where are you from”! I imagine it will be nigh-on impossible for my son – born in Italy to a Belgian and a Brazilian parent (both of whom grow up in the UK) and now living in Sweden.
When it comes to the idea of “home” though, I tend to think that you make it yourself. Sure, sometimes I’m jealous of friends who feel a very strong and lasting connection to one place, and some days I’m tired of feeling slightly out of place everywhere. Most of the time, however, (even if I have to convince myself a little!) I feel flexible, adapted, and able to define our own quirks and cultural habits. Hopefully in a way that will evoke some sense of belonging and loved-ness in our son when he is goodness-knows-where in years to come.
Emma says
I think that’s a really good way to look at things. Thanks Eline! :)
Sarah Ebner says
I love this picture – and the post and the question it raises. I wonder what home is – your home town, your parents, where you grow up or simply a place you feel affinity to? I don’t know the answer, maybe it’s different for different people, but it’s a fascinating issue. Very moving too.
Emma says
Thanks Sarah. I don’t think I have the answer either!
HPMcQ says
mmmm yes this is an interesting one for me. so let me explain…
my mother is spanish. my father is english. they met in the uk and then moved back to the canaries and i was born there. we then moved to the uk when i was a toddler and i grew up here. 22 years ago they moved back to spain. so where is home???
now i was born in spain, i am half spanish half english but i feel english as i have grown up here and lived here for the majority of my life, this is my home, this is where my family is. but when i go back to the canaries i always say ‘back home’ which is strange because i have little memory of it actually being my home but so many wonderful memories of holidays with family and now visiting my parents too. so maybe you can have two homes? you know that comforting feeling when you go back to the home you grew up in, and your mum cooks you your favourite meal? so maybe home is more about the people and sense of emotion you have when you are there rather than a physical place for me.
Emma says
Two homes sounds perfect V. I wonder whether home is more about the people and sense of emotion for everyone regardless of where you are from/lived etc. too! An interesting one. Thanks so much for commenting and explaining what home means to you x