I left Canada when I was young with a broken heart and every intention of going back as soon as I could. I traveled to the north of England for university and cried every night for a month because I was so home sick – I missed my friends, I’d just sold my horse and it broke my heart, I missed my life. But slowly over time I built a new life for myself without even realising it. For the next five years I walked such a rocky, slippery path that was the most challenging part of my life up until that point, although I didn’t realise it at the time – I was becoming myself.
I did go back to Canada. For a summer at first, and then a quick passing visit, and then a four year gap, and then I started dating a Canadian boy (spoiler alert: my future husband) who grew up a few streets over from me. It always makes me laugh that I traveled half the world to marry someone I met when I was eight.
But somehow between that first summer and now, over a decade has passed and I’ve spent almost no time roaming the city that held my heart so many years ago. It has been a long time since it felt like home and while I loved that time in my life, I couldn’t wish for it back again – only because what I have now is so amazing. The life I’ve created for myself is so much better.
This visit I had a little more time to myself, and I wandered around taking it all in. A part of me realised I’d been holding it at arms length for so long because I almost didn’t want to remember, in case it was painful. But it wasn’t in the end. I just remembered how much I used to love it and how it used to feel like home. It doesn’t anymore and that’s ok, it doesn’t always have to feel painful to let things go. It feels like a different kind of home now, mostly a home to so many people I love – and a wonderful place to keep returning to.