We moved several times when I was a kid, so I guess I’m attached to them all, but with a kind of primal loss built in. I missed San Diego, the first place I could remember living (we moved away when I was six). I missed it so much as soon as I got married and graduated from college we moved back. It wasn’t the same, and I wasn’t the same. We moved away, and then moved back, and then finally moved to Europe.
My parents recently sold their home of almost thirty years in the town where we moved when I was ten. Last time I visited them there, the town had changed a lot. The park where we used to play was filled with drug paraphernalia. The housing crisis seems to have struck it hard, and I noticed so many unhoused people, many more than when I was a child. At the same time, the downtown has been revitalised and now hosts posh little festivals. None of it feels like when I was growing up. And now my parents have left, so I have less of a reason to visit again.
A primal loss... that's poignant. And, I believe, spot on. Our very first home is mom (literally) but the next one that we become attached to is where we start to understand ourselves as separate from mom. By age 6, you were starting to do that. (btw, I lived in San Diego 1986-88 when Maureen O'Conner was mayor - it was a sleepy little town then and I loved it. It is SO different now!)
And your second home, the town that has changed so much... As you say, none of it feels the same as when you were growing up. Even more so, I really appreciate your understanding of how YOU have changed - and the towns changed in your absence. With that, how can it ever feel the same? Which brings a sense of loss. Often, this is where nostalgia kicks in.
Thanks so much for responding, Sarah! So where do you live in Europe now?
wait, where in Italy? Have we already discussed this? If so, I'm embarrassed and hope you'll forgive me. That's fantastic! (Your new home and intended move). I'm hoping to move next year as well. :)
No, it’s quite a new development! My new hometown will be Narni, a beautiful hill town in Umbria. My Substack is all about turning the cellar into a tiny indie bookshop.
We moved several times, but my mother is still in the last house, where she and dad worked hard to turn 2 acres into their own little piece of forest and garden on an intercity arterial where a river of traffic now goes by at 40-50 mph. It’s dangerous now to go to the mailbox, go for a walk (in ditches - no sidewalks), or cross to the neighbor’s house. But on the back of the property, that all fades. So much family history is there that it’s hard to think of letting the place go, but it seems inevitable. We’ve all moved elsewhere, but it’s still the home we visit. I struggle with how to think about a piece of land that’s in all of us, but none of us wants to live on a virtual highway now to keep the home. When the infrastructure around the property changes, even the house still standing cannot be lived in the former way. We’re fortunate to have so much time to make the pictures and memories there that we have.
How old were you when your folks moved onto this property? Their work certainly sounds like a labor of love. Was it the back of the property that drew them to this place?
Your one sentence strikes me as not only as true but as prescient: "When the infrastructure around the property changes, even the house still standing cannot be lived in the former way." This is spot on and I love the way you articulated it.
I don't have a hometown as such given that I grew up in Oman as an expat and then have moved around so much; in my head, yes, Muscat is home but also, a home which I always knew that I would leave. However, it has intrinsically shaped who I am and of course, continues to influence my writing till this day. And of all the cities and homes I have lived in, the house I grew up in Oman will be my home
Thanks for responding, Priyanka! I wonder how old you were when you were in Oman, but giving that you say you grew up there, I'm not surprised this is the place that imprinted on you the most. Those years when we are discovering ourselves as separate from our mother, the landscape around us as we move out into the world (very slowly in tiny steps that seem huge when we're young) are the most important in developing our bond to a place. Even if it is not the town itself, the home - individual rooms with their particular quirks, views, even smells - becomes like a friend or even a family member.
I moved there when I had just turned five and lived there for most of my adult life so yes, as you said, those initial steps in discovering the landscape around you and in turn, developing a sense of self so powerfully embed themselves in your consciousness. And regarding what you say about the house, if I may take the liberty, I actually wrote an essay solely focused on my house in Oman which I am sharing here which touches upon the very things you mention: https://themarkaz.org/home-is-a-house-in-oman/
While my hometown is a big part of my history, & feels homey when I go, it’s no longer my home. I’m “at home” when I visit my family, yes, but Lakeview isn’t home. We’ve lived in our town for over 25 years now, & it’s definitely home to me.😀
25 years is a long time and you've put a lot of labor and love into making your current home "home". Lakeview is like a cozy blanket of sorts. You don't want it all the time but once in a while it's nice to wrap it around you and feel a different kind of warmth.
Thank you for your kindness, Jan.
You have a great Substack! Love your content. Happy to get the word out.
Oh, I was so hoping you would use the word “quirky.”
We moved several times when I was a kid, so I guess I’m attached to them all, but with a kind of primal loss built in. I missed San Diego, the first place I could remember living (we moved away when I was six). I missed it so much as soon as I got married and graduated from college we moved back. It wasn’t the same, and I wasn’t the same. We moved away, and then moved back, and then finally moved to Europe.
My parents recently sold their home of almost thirty years in the town where we moved when I was ten. Last time I visited them there, the town had changed a lot. The park where we used to play was filled with drug paraphernalia. The housing crisis seems to have struck it hard, and I noticed so many unhoused people, many more than when I was a child. At the same time, the downtown has been revitalised and now hosts posh little festivals. None of it feels like when I was growing up. And now my parents have left, so I have less of a reason to visit again.
A primal loss... that's poignant. And, I believe, spot on. Our very first home is mom (literally) but the next one that we become attached to is where we start to understand ourselves as separate from mom. By age 6, you were starting to do that. (btw, I lived in San Diego 1986-88 when Maureen O'Conner was mayor - it was a sleepy little town then and I loved it. It is SO different now!)
And your second home, the town that has changed so much... As you say, none of it feels the same as when you were growing up. Even more so, I really appreciate your understanding of how YOU have changed - and the towns changed in your absence. With that, how can it ever feel the same? Which brings a sense of loss. Often, this is where nostalgia kicks in.
Thanks so much for responding, Sarah! So where do you live in Europe now?
I’ve lived in Amsterdam for the past nine years. Just bought a little house in Italy, and planning to move there in the next year.
wait, where in Italy? Have we already discussed this? If so, I'm embarrassed and hope you'll forgive me. That's fantastic! (Your new home and intended move). I'm hoping to move next year as well. :)
No, it’s quite a new development! My new hometown will be Narni, a beautiful hill town in Umbria. My Substack is all about turning the cellar into a tiny indie bookshop.
We moved several times, but my mother is still in the last house, where she and dad worked hard to turn 2 acres into their own little piece of forest and garden on an intercity arterial where a river of traffic now goes by at 40-50 mph. It’s dangerous now to go to the mailbox, go for a walk (in ditches - no sidewalks), or cross to the neighbor’s house. But on the back of the property, that all fades. So much family history is there that it’s hard to think of letting the place go, but it seems inevitable. We’ve all moved elsewhere, but it’s still the home we visit. I struggle with how to think about a piece of land that’s in all of us, but none of us wants to live on a virtual highway now to keep the home. When the infrastructure around the property changes, even the house still standing cannot be lived in the former way. We’re fortunate to have so much time to make the pictures and memories there that we have.
How old were you when your folks moved onto this property? Their work certainly sounds like a labor of love. Was it the back of the property that drew them to this place?
Your one sentence strikes me as not only as true but as prescient: "When the infrastructure around the property changes, even the house still standing cannot be lived in the former way." This is spot on and I love the way you articulated it.
I don't have a hometown as such given that I grew up in Oman as an expat and then have moved around so much; in my head, yes, Muscat is home but also, a home which I always knew that I would leave. However, it has intrinsically shaped who I am and of course, continues to influence my writing till this day. And of all the cities and homes I have lived in, the house I grew up in Oman will be my home
Thanks for responding, Priyanka! I wonder how old you were when you were in Oman, but giving that you say you grew up there, I'm not surprised this is the place that imprinted on you the most. Those years when we are discovering ourselves as separate from our mother, the landscape around us as we move out into the world (very slowly in tiny steps that seem huge when we're young) are the most important in developing our bond to a place. Even if it is not the town itself, the home - individual rooms with their particular quirks, views, even smells - becomes like a friend or even a family member.
I moved there when I had just turned five and lived there for most of my adult life so yes, as you said, those initial steps in discovering the landscape around you and in turn, developing a sense of self so powerfully embed themselves in your consciousness. And regarding what you say about the house, if I may take the liberty, I actually wrote an essay solely focused on my house in Oman which I am sharing here which touches upon the very things you mention: https://themarkaz.org/home-is-a-house-in-oman/
While my hometown is a big part of my history, & feels homey when I go, it’s no longer my home. I’m “at home” when I visit my family, yes, but Lakeview isn’t home. We’ve lived in our town for over 25 years now, & it’s definitely home to me.😀
25 years is a long time and you've put a lot of labor and love into making your current home "home". Lakeview is like a cozy blanket of sorts. You don't want it all the time but once in a while it's nice to wrap it around you and feel a different kind of warmth.
Exactly! And the blanket’s only truly cozy if I get to share it with the people who made home, home.😀