Defining Home

This weekend while out for some brunch, Ava was engaged in a simple conversation with a women that we met in a restaurant.  The lady began with the usual questions “What is your name?”  and “How old are you?” to which Ava responded with poise and ease. Subsequently, the lady began to probe a bit deeper and asked Ava “Where are you from?” Ava’s usual response to this particular question is “Saigon” but after a few seconds of pensive thought, with the point of one little finger and a twinkle in those impossibly dark eyes, Ava replied “Disneyland!”

As an adult global nomad, when asked “Where are you from?” I too, often pause to contemplate before I en devour to share. Although my answer has never been quite as whimsical as “Disneyland” my response often hinges on my mood, the situation and the amount of time I have to explain.

For Ava, the answer to the question “Where are you from?” is usually very simple, “Saigon.” For Gary and me, the uncomplicated, easy reply is “The States.”  Sometimes this answer alone is enough to suit the inquisitor, but often the follow up question is “Oh, where in The States are you from?” This is when things get a bit more difficult as I don’t have one definite answer for this question.

For Gary and I, when we board the long flight back to the US we know that we are going home, however for Ava we are simply going to see Grandma and Grandpa. It isn’t until we board the flight back to Saigon that she considers she is on her way home. Sometimes I joke that home is where I hang my backpack. For being a global nomad, your passport tells you what country you are allowed to reside in, but it is your heart that tells you where is home.