Tuesday, June 2, 2009

There's no place like home, there's no place like home

My sister Ebba is the philosopher of our family. At times, I think she over-thinks things to the point where it makes no sense. Life is complicated at times, but often it's simpler that you think. 

Anyway, she once asked me, when I say "home" do I consider New York my home or Sweden. I immediately answered New York, but just as quickly as I had said that, I changed it to "maybe Sweden". And then back again "no, New York, for sure". I have now spent almost as much of my life in the US as I have in Sweden, and most of my adult life has been in New York, which makes it a confusing question. 

Lately I have realized that in my heart I have two homes with two different meanings. My cultural heritage will always be Swedish. When I think of my nationality, I will always consider myself Swedish above all. On the other hand, when I'm homesick, I'm homesick for New York.

In the end I think that my home is where my heart is, and that is in New York. Home is where Rich is and that is New York. Now York is the city that has everything I love, my husband, my home, my friends, my career.

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