Home is Where the Heart Is

I actually discovered this the last couple of times I was in the Philippines but I've often wondered where I "belong". Here in Canada I'm a visible minority (maybe not so much here in Vancouver, but you know what I mean). I'm not white, I have cultural differences that make themselves evident in weddings, funerals, home life, and personal values, and my family speaks a foreign language. Growing up in a predominantly white society in the prairies, I never really felt like I fit in. Then, when I was 26 I went to the Philippines. My parents still call it "going home" and I tell people that it's "where I'm from". However, when I'm there I still don't quite fit in. I may not stand out in a crowd, but the locals can still tell that I'm not from there, I don't speak the language, and I don't fully understand some cultural idiosyncracies. So "going home" wasn't an experience that was familiar to me. Over the past few years, I've come to the realization that home isn't necessarily where you were born or where your family originated from. It also may not be where you currently live. Home, as they say, is where the heart is, and today I came home.