I could feel it when we were driving across Michigan earlier this week. It was a slow, warm, very deep feeling that I haven’t felt in years. Decades, even. As I drove through the state, my whole body started to relax in a way I didn’t even know it could. I started to feel moored. Deeply, deeply moored.
I’ve never lived in Michigan, but it was familiar in a way the west coast isn’t, even after living there for 22 years.
I moved to California when I was 32. Prior to that, I had lived only in Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. Both of those places felt like home, though I didn’t know it at the time. I only became aware of the sense of home once I didn’t have it anymore.
Moving to Santa Barbara was a dream. It was warm, and there were palm trees and beaches and gorgeous sunsets. It was different from the east coast in so many ways, both subtle and not. It felt like I had moved to a foreign country. Skateboarding was a typical form of transportation! For years, people could tell I was from the east coast by the way I walked (quickly) and the fact that I was always punctual. Even though it never felt like home, I loved Santa Barbara.
I assumed it would start to feel like home at some point, but even after 14 years, it never did. Then we moved to Portland, Oregon. Portland is more like the east coast than Santa Barbara is, but it also never felt like home. That was okay; I didn’t think I needed the feeling of home, and I also didn’t know how to get it since I didn’t want to move back to Pennsylvania. There were lots of things to love about Portland, and I did love living there.
Last year, we started thinking about moving to Canada (my husband is Canadian and the US is nuts right now). We were looking at Ontario and British Columbia as options. I was strongly leaning toward Ontario, though I’d never been there. It had lots of positives for our family, and I also suspected that it might feel like home. My husband wanted British Columbia, and for various reasons, that’s where we pointed ourselves.
We spent months this year preparing to move to British Columbia. We sold our house and had an offer accepted on a house on Vancouver Island. When we had to walk away from that house because of a devastating inspection, my husband had a change of heart and started considering Ontario. Long story short, three weeks before we moved, we changed our destination from British Columbia to Ontario, where I had still never been.
As soon as the decision was made, my entire self relaxed – so deeply I often found myself in tears. I’m not a Pacific Northwest person (PNW people know who they are and why!). I’m not even a west coast person. I’m just not. Being in an environment that doesn’t exactly fit creates tension. That can be perfectly fine and totally worth it, but the tension can take a toll. I hadn’t realized how much of a toll it took to not feel whole-self-relaxed for 22 years.
As we drove from Portland to Detroit in the last week, we drove through all kinds of beautiful landscapes. Yellowstone was gorgeous. The prairies are stunning. And then we got to Michigan. I suddenly noticed myself smiling. Grinning, actually. I was feeling something I hadn’t felt in decades!
I don’t know why it happened in Michigan and not Wisconsin or Illinois, but the feeling was big and undeniable. Home. Comfortable in the way you can only feel in your home. Like being able to speak in your native tongue after speaking a foreign language for years. Effortless. Light. A puzzle piece that fits.
That was two days ago. I’m currently in Amherstburg, Ontario, and the feeling is still here even though I’m in another country. We’re staying with family for 10 days, then we’ll move to a rental house for a month as we decide what town we want to move to. After that month is over, I’m not sure what we’ll do.
I am not comfortable with uncertainty. I’m not remotely comfortable with not having a home. Even so, I am much more comfortable at a soul level than I’ve been for decades. Home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. And I finally have it back!