I’ve been thinking a lot about home this week, and how my definition—and physical location—of it has changed over the years. My story is certainly not liner. When I was a kid, my mom and I were constantly on the move. As an adult, I’ve lived in Victoria, Toronto, Victoria again, Toronto again, New West (x2), Port Moody, Victoria again and now Squamish. And while I feel more at home in Squamish than I have anywhere else, I know that nothing is permanent and I will always be open to seeing where life takes me.
In saying that nothing is permanent, there is one thing that has never changed for me: the fact that, no matter where I have lived or what my life looked like, I’m always happy to go home at the end of a trip. It doesn’t matter how amazing the trip was. I always get to the end of it feeling genuinely excited to go home.