I once lamented that leaving Calgary didn’t make it feel any less my home, but after living in Winchester for three years I had two homes, which meant I would always be homesick for at least one of them no matter where I went. Now I’m in my fourth year of living in Toronto, my third home, officially longer than I lived in England for, and the inescapability of homesickness continues to be true.
But what is homesickness, really? Is it pining for the air I used to breathe? The comfort of a place I knew well? Is it missing the people? Or the version of myself I was when I was there? Or is it just loneliness? Would it go away if I had enough friends, enough love, around me? If so, I have yet to reach that threshold. As an introvert, I don’t know that I ever will.
Or perhaps homesickness is just the discomfort of growing. Perhaps it doesn’t take moving to experience it, it’s just innate. Do people also get homesick for a childhood left behind while still sleeping in the only home they’ve ever known? I can’t say.
I went back to Calgary in September. As the trip grew nearer, I felt myself grow sicker for it. At first I wondered if it was dread for the oncoming proximity of a childhood otherwise ignored, but there was a familiar pull to my old city that led to me recognizing the sickness.
It was a homesickness stronger than what I’ve felt in a while. I wondered where it came from? It could be from missing the big sky, the fresh air, or the mountains always there to orient me. Then I thought maybe it was the people—some I haven’t talked to in years. I go to Calgary so rarely, it’s no wonder I’ve lost touch with them. A few on purpose, if I’m being honest.
When I flew back, I marvelled at the wide open sky, thinking about how a city as big as Toronto could have such a small sky in comparison (it can’t be healthy to have so little sky per capita). I stared at the mountains until my eyes watered. I breathed as though my breath had been held all year—since last time.
And I still felt homesick for it.
Maybe the people, I thought. Maybe the people I left behind were the cure to my melancholy. So I met with them, one or two at a time, as many as I could fit into my few days. The meetings were good, and felt good, but they were a different kind of medicine for a different kind of malady. The homesickness remained.
There I was, in my city of origin, on the path I once walked with a gentle dog whose fur I still find on my clothes and who visits me in my dreams to refresh my memory of her cloud-soft fur. But I’ve changed, and Calgary has changed, and time has yet to be mastered by anyone, let alone me. There’s no going back to my Calgary. That home is gone. This is what’s here now. It’s not worse, but it’s not the same and never will be.
It has been over a decade since I left Winchester, the first home I chose and made for myself. I thought I would’ve been back by now, just to visit. I still talk to some of the friends I made there, on occasion, but they no longer live there, having left university as well, of course. I know my Winchester is gone, too. It was gone as soon as I left it, and I am unacquainted with what it has become.
That leaves me with Toronto, the only home I have left. I hope it remains home for a long time. It changes, too, and someday the home I have now will be just as gone as the others, but I will have been there for the changes, so I think it will be different. But in this home, I’m still homesick. This is a problem.
I’m not alone here. Over the last four years, my life has filled with people (and dog) who make me feel loved and cared about. I’ve grown some roots—good ones, without any rot or pests that have plagued me in the past. And yet…
This home is about to change again. Two of my four jobs will be ending on Halloween, independent of one another. As a result, my schedule and social life will be inevitably and irrevocably altered. The homesickness preceded the knowledge of these changes to come, so the mystery of why it haunts me is not solved. It may get worse, come November. In fact, I expect it to. Even the sun won’t be around so much anymore.
Other than searching for a new job to occupy me, I don’t know how else to prepare for it. I can only brace myself, and mourn.
I hope you enjoyed this post! I’ve been watching Wednesday and The Sandman and with the coming of October, was in the mood to do something a little more angsty and dramatic. Rest assured, things for me aren’t as dire as I’m making them out to be. It’s just my favourite time of year and I wanted to milk it. Hope you’re enjoying the autumn!
