Belonging

During my first year moving abroad to New Zealand, I asked "How long does it take for a place to feel like home?" to a friend of mine who migrated over a decade ago.

He paused for a moment and replied, "Roughly five years."

Five years. 

I would feel like a visitor, an outsider, a temporary nomad, displaced and uncomfortable for five years. 

I've lived in the same town for over four years now, and it's only recently that I've started feeling as though I belong here. 

The shift from visitor to local moves like the last bit of honey at the end of the bottle, painfully slow. 

My first landmark accomplishment of belonging happened when a stranger asked me where the driver’s license renewal place was and I replied with a series of left and rights, noting specific names. I walked away with a sense of authority - I knew this place.  

My life here developed a rhythm. I have a favorite grocery store and cafe. I have three go-to walking spots within 20 minutes of my house. I’ve been a regular member of my jiu jitsu club for nearly the whole time I’ve lived here. 

The pattern becomes familiar. 

Certain days come with highlights of toastmasters club or dinner with a friends. For me,  Saturdays are the best. 

Saturday is the only day I am eager to get out of bed early.

The local farmer’s market calls in the retired, the fresh families, and the yuppies, all pressing  to get a good choice before the stalls sellout. 

I curtail straight towards the fish, snagging any smoked salmon. Next I refill my glass jar of yogurt and pick up my cheese for the week. I wish the eggman a good week and catch up with my friend outside the meat stall. She is ordering a coffee from the stall across the walkway. If I feel like a little treat, I buy myself flowers. My last stops are to pick up the weekly veggies before heading home.

After putting away the groceries, I enjoy a slow breakfast. My reading chair is positioned perfectly to catch the morning sun. Lounging there, I read and sip tea, until it is time for Open Mat at jiu jitsu. It’s time to roll around with the boys for an hour. 

But just because I have a rotating agenda of what to do, and I know a place, that still doesn’t make it home. What ties you to a place is the people. 

Until recently, I felt like I didn’t have enough friends. I searched for these deep connections through work and living situations, but most of those relationships didn’t last. Most relationships are situational. True, meaningful friendships take years to build. 

Luckily, after several years, I have a small set of strong friendships. 

Yet, with all the goodness I’ve mentioned above, there’s still a bit of me that feels lonely, unsatisfied, and unfulfilled. 

I felt what was missing at my sister’s wedding. 

Making a trip to my hometown for the celebration, I was overwhelmed by the amount of people who gathered together. Well over a hundred people attended her wedding. I recognised them as childhood neighbors, favorite teachers, local musicians, family, friends, coaches, and mentors. 

This was a community, people who have impacted each other’s lives. Connected by shared stories and responsibility to care for eachother, a community takes a lifetime to build. 

Belonging does not just happen after 5 years, but rather an active choice. It requires me to step outside myself to care for the people around me, and the place I live. I need to give back and participate in the community to belong to the community. 

It’s the next step into making this home.