There’s a certain thrill you get from landing in a place you call home*. So there I was on the brink of my 23rd birthday flying halfway across the world from one home to another. The flight from Toronto to Jeddah was long and tiring. It was a bittersweet feeling. On one hand I was coming home to my parents, to my house and to a place I have known my whole life and on the other I was leaving a home where I had found myself and people that has helped me grow and become the person that I am today. So needless to say, I was a little sad and wasn’t really sure how it was going to feel.
So how did it feel? It felt very…very hot. The heat held onto every fibre of my being and it felt suffocating (mind you, I have grown up in Saudi and I don’t know why but that day I felt like the heat was a little too unbearable). I pulled up my hair and awaited the bus that would take us to our terminal. The weirdest part about this whole scenario was the fact that I did not feel like I was home, even though I had spent more than half my life in this same city but there was something about the air and the people and for the first time in a longtime I felt like an outsider.
So how does a country that was once home become so unlike home? Is it because you’ve changed or has the place changed? These are the the questions that need answering. And now I must go and sleep off this jetlag, till next time!
*I use the word ‘home’ very loosely because I don’t really know if I truly believe that it is a place that is home or whether it is the people in it.