This column is contributed by Anusuya Datta, a writer and journalist residing in Saskatoon. For further details on First Person stories, refer to the FAQ.
When we adorned our house with holiday lights in early December in Saskatoon, there was no snowfall. Despite the absence of the white fluffy covering, I gazed fondly at our dwelling once again.
I have always believed in the saying, “Home is where the heart is.” After being in Canada for three years, it appears that we have finally discovered a place to designate as our own home.
Upon entering the house for the first time with my husband and teenager during our house-hunting expedition, we were captivated by the profusion of windows. Sunlight streamed in from all angles, filling each room with a cozy, welcoming radiance, including the basement!
“Mom, this feels like home,” my child remarked.
That smile on my kid’s face had been absent for quite a while.
“And definitely not a dentist’s office!”
That was the usual confident teenager speaking, alluding to the various other “perfect” houses we had been viewing.
This house exuded beauty in its simplicity and warmth, boasting a front yard that extended gracefully and a backyard adorned with swaying poplar trees.
And the windows, of course.
It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t spacious. It wasn’t cramped. It was just right.
It was love at first sight.
Recollections of Home from Childhood
Standing in our backyard amidst Christmas lights, the now fading greenery, and the ground blanketed with leaves, memories of my childhood home in India flooded back. It featured a similar expanse of nature, with a fragrant jasmine bush and towering sunflower plants in the front yard. The backyard housed Mom’s vegetable garden, which my siblings and I once entirely excavated to implement a canal system that we believed would automatically water the plants. I still recall Mom’s shock at our inventive plan.
Nostalgia washed over me, filling me with profound gratitude for the chance to recreate similar memories with my family.
The past few years post our move from Delhi to Saskatoon have been a roller-coaster of uncertainties for my family.
Our previous home in India was our initial investment as a young couple. The notion of ownership provided us with a sense of authority — the feeling that we could make this space distinctly “ours.” It served as a canvas for our dreams and ambitions.
It was unlike the home I grew up in. During that period, Delhi, like other bustling cities in India, was expanding vertically, and the only affordable options for middle-class individuals like my husband and me were apartments in towering concrete complexes. Nonetheless, we cherished our apartment. It boasted large windows and sliding doors leading to spacious balconies. Sunlight flooded in almost all day, to the extent that it became overwhelming during scorching summers.
It was a place where we accumulated memories over time, with each corner holding a tale, and the walls resonating with laughter and tears.
It wasn’t roomy. It wasn’t cramped. It was just perfect for the two of us, later expanding to three with the arrival of our child.
It was our haven.
