then we saw the stars again

And before you know it, we’re flying off to Toronto tomorrow. August has been kind to us at my parents’ place, while J has been in Canada for three weeks already, and a new house is waiting for us now.
A new place we’ll call home.

I never really know how to answer when people ask me where I’m from. There are memories of many places, houses and people that make up a rather disparate idea of what home really is for me. Leaving Sicily for France when I was 4 meant that I kept an idealized version of the place I was born, and it also meant that I grew up French, culturally speaking. Studying in London and falling in love in Providence brought me closer to an Anglo-saxon worldview, which I still find the most affinities with. Starting a family in Singapore taught me to overcome cultural differences and shed involuntary prejudices regarding Asian traditions, for which I am thankful.

So where’s home?

Of all places, I think I’m attached to my grandmother’s apartment most. This is the one house we still have, after all our relocations and real estate considerations. It hasn’t changed much: still the same furniture, the seaside area has been relatively spared from aggressive speculation, and all my grandfather’s instruments are still in perfect working condition. Every time I land in Palermo and we drive the 20 minute trip back I have this childlike sense of anticipation: I’ll open the front door and I’ll find my old collection of Mickey Mouse comic books, my toy cars, the Crumar organ and the miked-up folk guitar. And the smell. The apartment has a smell of seabreeze and clean linen that is forever etched in my olfactory memory. I don’t get to visit Sicily as often as I’d like to, but I know exactly what I’ll find every time I do. And that’s comforting.

My parents have been living near Turin since 1999. This is not where we come from, but it is home nonetheless. I love spending time with my brother and sister, and the time we spend together is precious. The village where we live is very quiet, and there isn’t much to do really. I’m not sure I could live here, but it’s a perfect place to take a break and get away from the stress of it all. It’s rather rural, too, and on a clear night you can see a lot more stars than you ever would in the city. The kids love it, in a way I suppose I must have loved Nonna’s Capaci apartment.

Of course, there was Singapore. You can’t just ignore 7 years of your life, being a father twice, starting a musical project and making friends through it. I’ve been meaning to write more about it since we’ve left, and I will once I settle down. But it wasn’t home, and wouldn’t have been for a few fundamental reasons. There is absolutely no bitterness in this, and in fact, I will cherish many memories from Asia, but no, it was not a place I could have really called home, as much as I tried.

So what now?

The new house looks great. It needs a bit of cleaning and refurbishing/furnishing, but we’re starting afresh. There is a park just across the road, and neighbors with kids of as many ethnic groups as you could think of.
I think we’re off to a good start.

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These pictures were taken around my parents’ place, at Lake Viverone, and in Genova.