This article is contributed by Anusuya Datta, a writer and journalist residing in Saskatoon. For additional details on First Person stories, visit the FAQ section.
When we adorned our home with holiday lights in early December in Saskatoon, there was no snow. Despite the absence of the white powdery flakes, I couldn’t help but admire our house yet again.
I have always believed in the saying, “Home is where the heart is.” After three years in Canada, it appears we have finally discovered a place to call our own.
The instant my spouse, teenager, and I entered the house for the first time during our house hunt, we were captivated by the numerous windows. Sunlight streamed in from all angles, filling every room with a cozy, warm radiance, even the basement!
“Mom, this feels like home,” my child remarked.
I hadn’t seen that smile on my child’s face in a while.
“Not like a dentist’s office!”
That was the typical confident teenager speaking, alluding to the several other “ideal” houses we had been viewing.
This dwelling was charming in its simplicity and warmth, featuring a front yard that extended gracefully and a backyard adorned with swaying poplar trees.
And those windows, indeed.
It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t spacious. It wasn’t cramped. It was just right.
It was love at first sight.
Recollections of Childhood Home
As I stood in our backyard, surrounded by Christmas lights, the now-aging greenery, and the ground coated in leaves, memories of my childhood home in India flooded back. That childhood home boasted a similar expanse of nature, with a fragrant jasmine bush in the front yard and towering sunflower plants. The backyard housed Mom’s vegetable garden, which my siblings and I once completely dug up to create a canal system that we believed would automatically water the plants. I still recall the shock on Mom’s face at our ingenious endeavor.
Nostalgia overwhelmed me, and I felt immensely grateful for the chance to recreate similar memories with my family.
The past few years since our relocation from Delhi to Saskatoon have been a roller-coaster of uncertainties for my family.
Our previous home in India was our first investment as a young couple. The idea of ownership gave us a sense of authority — the feeling that we could make this space uniquely ours. It served as a canvas for our dreams and ambitions.
It was distinct from the home I grew up in. Delhi, like other metropolitan cities in India, was expanding vertically at that time, and the only options for middle-class individuals like my spouse and me were apartments in towering concrete complexes. Yet, 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 we regretted it during scorching summers.
It became a place filled with memories over the years, where every nook held a story, and the walls reverberated with joy and sorrow.
It wasn’t spacious. It wasn’t cramped. It was just right for the two of us, and later for the three of us when our child arrived.
It was our sanctuary.
