After 46 hours of travel (28 of those hours spent in the air), we landed in St. John’s last night. This morning, it took me ten seconds to realize where I was. Another five seconds to figure out why I let myself sleep until noon. The backpack(s) have been unpacked and are taking a well-deserved break in my closet. My clothes are in the laundry basket. This morning, I soaked in the tub. Any traces of the Pacific were scrubbed out of my hair.

And then it hits me–that we’re back home. I can’t pinpoint the feeling that thought leaves me with. Are we happy to be back? Yes, absolutely. We both love Newfoundland, and couldn’t wait to see our family and friends again. I’m itching for our older sister to show up with our nephew so we can spend who knows how long playing “hide Horsie”.

Yet, we can’t get rid of this sadness. Or is it an emptiness? I can never tell.

They say that “Home is Where the Heart is”. Well, I think that’s the problem.

For me, Newfoundland is home, so it obviously has a big piece of my heart. But, what if I’ve left pieces of my heart in other places? It started when Vancouver took a piece of my heart. Then New York took a piece. I’ve left pieces of my heart in Seattle and London and Switzerland. Ireland and Italy both have substantial pieces. And now Sydney. And I know there’s lots left to give.

Maybe this is what happens to everyone who falls in love with other places? You never feel quite at home again–even when you’re completely content with where you live.

**I had to pause writing this post midway for a couple of hours. Our nephew showed up, haha 🙂