"So how are you finding being back in the UK?" I've been here five months now, and I get this question a lot, often with an ancillary comment about the weather.
I understand why people ask it, and I also understand that, often, what they really want to know is whether I'm all right, after turning my life upside down the way I have done. And sometimes I'm all right and sometimes I'm not; things have been tough, and will be for a while.
But to answer the question literally, let me tell you what being back in the UK means to me:
It's walking down a busy street with two kids I adore waving and shouting at me from across the road. It's the ache when my newest niece smiles and snuggles into my shoulder. It's spending time with the sisters I've missed so much. It's knowing I can be there for my mum.
It's renewing old friendships and forging new ones. It's being honest with people, because I no longer have to pretend that I'm happy to be where I am. It's growing in confidence, because life is hard and sometimes sad but I am doing this by myself.
It's dozing in the park or drinking by the river with friends. It's finding beauty in the heart of London and escaping to the country for weekends. It's snuggling up to my friend's dog or walking him through the fields. It's the spark of bonfires or a friend's cigarette smoke. It's running in the rain, through the petrol fumes and chilly air.
It's being caught up in the autumn reds and a robin hopping across my path. It's a cat curled next to me, not caring how I look as long as I have love to share. It's jumpers and scarves and wearing short skirts, and it's a room of my own with bookshelves to spare.
It's the most beautiful train journey I've ever known. It's people being polite on the Tube.
It's drinking wine with my friend and reading to her daughter before bed. It's texts from my niece, kisses from my nephew, late night chats with my sisters and friends.
It's watching Wimbledon in real time and football in pubs. It's talking writing on the South Bank with talented women, and talking books in beer gardens as the evenings draw in. It's twenty gigs to choose from, it's the city-smoky air, and it's the river, the river, the river.
It's building a life. It's being home.
I understand why people ask it, and I also understand that, often, what they really want to know is whether I'm all right, after turning my life upside down the way I have done. And sometimes I'm all right and sometimes I'm not; things have been tough, and will be for a while.
But to answer the question literally, let me tell you what being back in the UK means to me:
It's walking down a busy street with two kids I adore waving and shouting at me from across the road. It's the ache when my newest niece smiles and snuggles into my shoulder. It's spending time with the sisters I've missed so much. It's knowing I can be there for my mum.
It's renewing old friendships and forging new ones. It's being honest with people, because I no longer have to pretend that I'm happy to be where I am. It's growing in confidence, because life is hard and sometimes sad but I am doing this by myself.
It's dozing in the park or drinking by the river with friends. It's finding beauty in the heart of London and escaping to the country for weekends. It's snuggling up to my friend's dog or walking him through the fields. It's the spark of bonfires or a friend's cigarette smoke. It's running in the rain, through the petrol fumes and chilly air.
It's being caught up in the autumn reds and a robin hopping across my path. It's a cat curled next to me, not caring how I look as long as I have love to share. It's jumpers and scarves and wearing short skirts, and it's a room of my own with bookshelves to spare.
It's the most beautiful train journey I've ever known. It's people being polite on the Tube.
It's drinking wine with my friend and reading to her daughter before bed. It's texts from my niece, kisses from my nephew, late night chats with my sisters and friends.
It's watching Wimbledon in real time and football in pubs. It's talking writing on the South Bank with talented women, and talking books in beer gardens as the evenings draw in. It's twenty gigs to choose from, it's the city-smoky air, and it's the river, the river, the river.
It's building a life. It's being home.