
About this piece: As an ex-patriot, people sometimes ask me, "Where is 'home' for you? Is the U.S. your home, or is Australia?" I've never had a firm answer to that question. I demur and say, "It's about the people, not the place", and that's true to a large extent. But I can't deny the comfort, the familiarity, of the things and smells and vistas that I've known since birth. Eucalyptus. Kookaburras. Wattle. Vegemite. School uniforms. Huntsman spiders. I am not nationalistic, but I am very proud and privileged to be Australian. If I had to choose tomorrow, to stay in one country for the rest of my life, I would not hesitate to head Down Under.
Luckily, I don't have to make that choice right now. Luckily, I have people who love me, and whom I love, in both continents. But this good fortune is a two-edged sword, because, while my house and my spouse are here in America, I no longer know where my home is. And sometimes, like tonight, I would like to be sure.
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