For me growing up, home was never a certain thing. The longest we ever stayed in one place was maybe two years and often me and my brother had little warning before we again had to pack up our lives and move. This first started when I was around 3 years old and we moved from the UK to Cairo, Egypt in the late 90s. It was a beautiful time and of all Cairo is probably the place I would most call home.
Of course, no real Egyptian would ever say that of me. I can speak basic Arabic and learned a lot about Egyptian ways in my time but I will never be truly Egyptian.
Sadly I’m not sure you could ever say I am truly Scottish either. Having left as a toddler, growing up hopping around the Middle East and Europe and not returning until I was 17, I am out of step with many of my age who grew up on the same street for 18 years. We didn’t share the same TV, the same music sensations, or rites of passage.
All of this to say it is hard for me to say where home is. The question ’where are you from?’ receives very different answers depending on how long I feel the person deserves – sometimes I even make up stories for my own amusement. I keep thinking one day I’ll decide on where home is, but for now I’m happy to keep wandering.