What happens when an expat goes home?
I had expected something momentous.
It had been 15 months since I had stepped foot in the Outer Hebrides. Despite my travels and stints of living abroad, I had never spent longer than a year without ‘going home’, at least for a visit. Then I moved to the USA: a long arduous process that meant once I arrived, I wasn’t allowed to leave for nearly a year.
Not a day went by in those 15 months that I didn’t think of home. Not because I was homesick – although there were days when that reared its head – but because I couldn’t not think about it. The Isle of Lewis is the place I grew up in, the place in which I’ve spent most of my life, the place where the majority of my loved ones live.
So yes, I expected something momentous, some dramatic emotion to arise as the plane bumped onto the runway at Stornoway earlier this month. In the end, it wasn’t momentous at all (except for the fact that sun was shining – now that is momentous). What it was, was utterly and completely familiar – and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
“How does it feel to be home?” The question was posed again and again; islanders will nearly always call the place ‘home’, no matter where they now live, or how long they’ve been gone. My answer? “It feels as if I never left.”
Returning to Lewis felt like slipping on a well-fitting glove.
Chatting with my family at the kitchen table, catching up with friends, popping into Delights for a coffee, going for a walk on Bayble Beach – it was as if I’d been doing this all along, without that 15 month break.
I ate toasted Stag Bakeries bread every day for breakfast (and when that wasn’t on the menu, it was because I was eating a breakfast roll of bacon, Stornoway Black Pudding, and potato scone). I ate a lot of Cadbury’s Mini Eggs (it’s nearly Easter, after all) and more than a few Empire Biscuits. I ate my much-anticipated fish and chips, as tangy and soft from salt and vinegar as I had hoped. I even tried guga, and Mr Stories My Suitcase Could Tell ate the entire thing (but that’s a story for another blog post!).
I drank in the open skies and the stars and the fresh air (because all of these are in short supply in NYC). I slept soundly, without waking, every single night; I suppose that’s what nature’s silence does to your sleeping patterns. I visited new shops and distilleries and restaurants, and found my way back to old favourites too. Beaches were high on the agenda: how had I never visited Huisinis before?!
Food and fresh air aside, I realised in the quiet moments that returning to the Outer Hebrides was momentous after all.
The little moments in life always are. There was the pride I felt at seeing my little brother in action as a teacher, and the easy banter at home between him and my husband. There was the simple joy of coffee and cake with my parents, and the laughs that come with conversations with old family friends.
In reality, no amount of WhatsApp messages can make up for sitting with your best friend on the couch, eating chocolate, watching a movie, and losing track of time because you’re talking too much. No videos of a toddler’s antics can replace the sheer joy of seeing the two-year old, who you last saw when they couldn’t walk, reaching out their hand and saying “Come on Katie!”
When I booked my flights, three weeks felt like a long time. When Mr Stories My Suitcase Could Tell and I landed in Stornoway, the three weeks seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of us. But then time seemed to disappear at a rapid rate. I wanted to see everyone, go everywhere, do everything, and time just slipped away.
Saying goodbye is never easy, but it helps when you have another home to return to.
There was something comforting about the approaching Manhattan skyline on the drive from the airport, about opening our front door, about fitting my new island acquisitions onto bookshelves and into cupboards. (I even requested a burger as my first meal on my return – clearly I’m acclimatising!)
So rather than sadness at the goodbyes, I’m grateful. Grateful that as an expat I’m lucky to have two homes in two of my favourite places in the world, and grateful for life’s little momentous moments, whichever side of the Atlantic they occur on.
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What does ‘home’ mean to you? How do you feel when you return to the place you grew up in?
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If you enjoyed this, you might like:
Notes on Going Home (Again): A Week in Lewis and Harris
On Leaving Home, and Loving the Hebrides
The Outer Hebrides Travel Guide
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This is a wonderful post! The Outer Hebrides sound like a magical place, but I’m happy you feel like NY is home now too 🙂
Thanks so much Lauren! They really are magical 🙂 But it’s still lovely to come back to NYC! Hope things are going well in Taiwan!
Really great post! I’m due to emigrate Stateside soon and I often wonder how I’ll feel on visits home, whether it would seem strange or like nothing’s changed…glad to hear that you experience was a positive one!
Thanks Kylie! It’s always nice to hear from people in similar situations 🙂 I’ll look forward to following your experiences on your blog!
Envious! But yes, heading home is so comforting. I’m back to Canada at least 1-2 times a year and sometimes more than that.
And how on earth do you pronounce Huisinis????
That would be ‘Hoosh-neesh’. and it’s glorious!
So glorious 🙂 !
It really is so comforting, Caitlin. I’d love to get back twice a year, but because of the distance (NY to London, London to Glasgow, Glasgow to Stornoway!) it’s more likely to be once a year for me. I really hope you get to visit someday!
I wish that I had your ability to write with such fluent ease.
‘Home’ is a strange concept and, as I’ve mentioned before, home to me is also Lewis even though I wasn’t born here and didn’t spend my formative years here. I feel absolutely no affinity whatsoever with the place of my birth and have no family or friends left there. However, having spent, nearly 10 years living 6 months in New Zealand and 6 months at home here on Lewis the subject of emotional homecomings is one I can relate to. Oddly when I first left Napier for my journey home I was very emotional but when the plane landed on Lewis I just felt that I was ‘home’ and that was it. As the years went on the emotions for both places got stronger when I arrived and left each one.
Until, that is, I had an enforced longer period back home on Lewis. I’ve just returned from 6 weeks instead of 6 months in New Zealand. Whilst I was there it was as if I’d never been away. But when I left I just got on the plane and left. It was hard leaving friends and The Family but all of a sudden it was somewhere I had visited and not my second home.
The plane set down on Lewis and it was as if I’d never left. That’s how I think it will always be from now on.
Oops. I misspelt the link to ‘me’ on my last comment. Hopefully that’s now remedied.
Thanks Graham, and thanks for the mention on your blog 🙂 The idea of ‘home’ is such an interesting concept, but I do find that those of us who are from, or who live in, the islands, seem to have a stronger sense of it than most. I think I must confuse people sometimes, what with all the references to two different ‘homes’!
It’s weird my heart is torn now – home is my family in Montreal, but home is my Brit in Scotland, but home is also the feeling I have every single time I walk off the bus in St Andrews. So many different meanings, but all the same absolute feeling when I have to leave them or when I arrive. Like you said, like a ‘well-fitted glove’ or leaving meaning that it feels my heart physically hurts. And three weeks is so short when you’re trying to soak in all that memory, and all the family and the friends!x
I know exactly how you feel Camila. (And how could I forget St Andrews! I’ve only been back once since I left, and walking onto Market Street almost made me cry!) And three weeks just wasn’t enough. I’m keeping my fingers crossed I can maybe get back again this year… we’ll have to see. Fingers crossed! x
I remember going back to Australia for a month last year (I live in the UK) and thinking about what a ridiculously large amount of time that was – it went by in the blink of an eye. It’s funny that you mention food – I spend a lot of time thinking about things like fresh sushi, chai tea and all kinds of Australian junk food which you can’t get over this side of the world. Going back to my favourite sushi train was much like your fish and chips experience. Long awaited and better than I had hoped for!
Thanks for your comment, LC! Spending time at home when you live abroad really does go by quickly, doesn’t it? And I think food is one thing all expats miss when they’re away 🙂 I’m glad your return home was as good as mine was!