the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
The concept of ‘home’ has always been a little strange to me. Growing up with parents whose restlessness and desire to see the world has resulted in countless flights, car journeys and any other modes of transport known to man, my notion of home has always been wherever my parents are.
Last summer they moved to Central Asia, to a country I’d never visited, a country that had no real context in my day-to-day life. Their move called into question my notion of ‘home’. Could I really call a place I knew nothing of my ‘home’ for the sole reason my parents were living there? I googled the place shortly after, read up on all the statistics; the population, the geographic location, the culture…. but what did I really know about it? Nothing. And I was left thinking, “Where does that leave me?”.
I live in a part of South-East London in a house I’m not going to occupy for much longer, and I can’t help but feel a little rootless. The notion of home. Is a home anywhere I happen to be living? And if so, if everywhere has the possibility to be my ‘home’, does that not mean nowhere really can be?