What Is Home?
A little less-known hometown singer Kit Chan first sang the ceremonious Home some 20 years ago, leaving its mark on local residents. The catch phrase (or verse, or maybe chorus, I forget):

“This is home truly, where I know I must be

Where my dreams wait for me, where the river always flows

This is home surely, as my senses tell me

This is where I won’t be alone, for this is where I know it’s home”

A staple of nation-building, I never really understood its appeal. I admit I found it tacky, cringey, and even lacklustre as an attempt from my home country to instil in its citizens a sense of comradery; a cheap trick brought out once a year to unify its population through song.

Now thousands of miles away from my home country, I ironically find myself harking back to simpler, easier times. A sense of belonging I never truly felt back then suddenly creeping up, a little more each day, a tinge more present with each step leading me further and further away from what I once knew as home.

Pandemic times have led to my missing the familiarity of my home country where family and friends huddled together in unison, whilst I watched from afar.

Sure, a connection is established some 5 GHz away, a phone call, text, or video chat rebuilds the broken physical link, but as I make my way around the city of my new home, the grass is suddenly too green, the air too aromatic, the sky too blue.

Perhaps the hardest hitting occurrence for me was watching through my little 5 inch screen, the greys on Mother’s hair whiter than I remembered, Father’s physique smaller than ever, and my nephews speaking clearer than they ever could some 5 years ago.

I realised I’ve long forgotten the colloqualisms of my home country, or perhaps simply relegated them to the deep unconscious. The nibblets of the accent and slangs I once detested were now replaced with new ones that stick out at the forefront of my memory.

Despite the intrusions of my new found identity, my new home, the greener grass, the vastly aromatic air, and the really really blue sky, the cheap trick of a song Home sticks out. Funnily enough, Kit wasn’t lying about the aptitude of my senses. Like I said, the grass here is too green, the air too aromatic, and the sky way too blue.

The cheap trick now turned into a haunting reminder of my concession. Home is no longer home, and while that sickly old river continues to flow, I too, must, wherever I may be.
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['Singapore', 'Pandemic', 'Family', 'Living Abroad', 'Culture']