Where (or What) Is Home?

Scattered thoughts on the idea of home, from a second-gen immigrant and Eldest Daughter.

Sundaze Book Café is the home of everyday magic, joyful living and conversations likely to be had over a hot drink with a friend in your favourite café, capturing the syrup-slow feel and glow of a Sunday. I’m Michelle, and I’ll be your host this Sunday.

“Michelle! How was your trip? It feels like you’ve been gone forever; we missed you! It’s so good to have you home.”

So echoed the chorus of my colleagues’ voices on my first day back in the office.

“It was great!” I begin.

Then, beneath the blinding fluorescence and Arctic air-conditioning, I froze and my eyes watered. Was I really choosing now to tear up at work?

“It was great,” I continued, plastering that stretched smile we all know too well. “It was amazing being back with family – we hadn’t seen each other since before the pandemic…”

That Tuesday morning, I must’ve had at least nine of this exact conversation. I’d genuinely missed my incredible team and seeing my brilliant colleagues, and it was equally great to be back. But, as my honest replies spilled out of me, I couldn’t help but feel like the thoughts that’ve been lingering below deck since we landed at Heathrow were threatening to come to the surface: I rarely feel like I’m completely at home.

Home is a familiar concept. It’s the four walls that you build a life in. The people that know you better than a social media bio and a fun fact shared as an icebreaker. It’s a comforting dish that takes you back to a moment you felt safe, warm and cherished. And it’s an all-encompassing blanketing feeling.