Part of the reason it’s taken me absolutely ages to write my next blog is that it’s so very strangely weird to be ‘home’ back in New Zealand. People ask me ‘So is it good to be home?’ Well where do I start?

My Journey started as you all know when Mum became unwell, and the decision was made to leave my lovely husband and Bermuda, brave the pandemic, endure isolation, and get to her side to help in her recovery. In fact when flying I had no idea I’d get there in time. Mum perked up and thought she’d better get better because she couldn’t waste my visit, which was such a relief to everyone. Mum’s now back at home getting a little better each week. I did joke with her about attention seeking, but we all know it was a very dire situation indeed.

Since then I have worked tirelessly for Mum for the first six weeks recovery from hospital, applied, was interviewed and won a new job, travelled to the North Island, bought a little car, secured a house to rent, and so far, fingers crossed, have successfully managed my first six weeks induction in my new role. Tomorrow I’ll be winging my way face mask donned back to my home town for Christmas. I must be the luckiest person on the planet to start work then six weeks later get three weeks compulsory Christmas closedown holiday. Wahoo!

So that has made me think about the definition of ‘home’. Initially ‘home’ is where we live, most of the time. I catch myself saying ‘I’m going home now’ but I live in temporary accommodation currently so I don’t consider this as my home. When people ask if it’s good to be home, the question has many implications that they don’t mean, but race round my brain before I answer. I have been away five years, so my birth town which is what I call my ‘hometown’ isn’t home to me anymore. I have changed. I don’t have any home to go to there that I lived in for any length of time, but my birthright and family connect me there. My parents home was never my home but having been in the family forever, connects me back.

My home is with my lovely husband, but he is thousands of miles across the world finishing up in Bermuda. There we have a rented apartment which I never really considered to be ‘home’ either, nor did the house in North Wales. Here in the North Island it is so vastly different to the South Island, that I still feel foreign, in my own country. I wonder if my new rented house will give me the sense of ‘home’ I am missing? I really don’t think that will happen immediately but will begin to happen once my lovely husband joins me. That is still a while away yet with red tape and international rules and being mindful to the people he works with. I am amazed at myself at how well I’m managing our separation this time, and oh there have been many. I believe this will be the last time which keeps me going even when missing him becomes too painful. Then he will go through the exact same transition as I did because New Zealand is not his home! Time to stop thinking.

So what makes us feel we are ‘home’? I would love to hear your thoughts on this.

Meanwhile thank you for being patient with me while I adjust to my transition. Do you remember the stressors calculator I put a link to in a previous blog? Well I’m right off the scale for that one, so it’s compulsory relaxing starting tomorrow! Merry Christmas everyone. We can now put 2020 behind us and congratulate ourselves as being survivors of a global pandemic and part of very important world history. Well done.

More soon – Sally