The column below was penned by Anusuya Datta, a Saskatoon-based writer and journalist. For further details on First Person narratives, refer to the FAQ.
In early December, when we adorned our Saskatoon residence with holiday lights, the city was devoid of snow. Despite the absence of the wintry white landscape, I couldn’t help but admire our house repeatedly.
I’ve always believed in the saying, “Home is where the heart is.” After residing in Canada for three years, it appears we have finally discovered a place to call our own.
Upon stepping into the house for the first time with my husband and teenager during our house-hunting journey, we were captivated by the profusion of windows. Natural light streamed in from every angle, enveloping each room in a cozy, welcoming aura, even the basement!
“This feels like home, Ma,” remarked my child.
It had been a while since I had seen that smile on my kid’s face.
“And not a dentist’s office!” quipped the usual cheeky teenager, in reference to the other “ideal” houses we had been exploring.
Our new dwelling exuded beauty in its simplicity and snugness, boasting a front yard that extended gracefully and a backyard adorned with swaying poplar trees.
And those windows, of course.
It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t expansive. It wasn’t cramped. It was just right.
It was love at first sight.
Recollections of my childhood home in India flooded back as I stood in our backyard, surrounded by Christmas lights, amidst the greying greenery and leaves underfoot. Our home in India had a similar vast natural expanse, with a fragrant jasmine bush in the front yard and large sunflower plants. The backyard housed Mom’s vegetable garden, which my siblings and I once dug up entirely to install a makeshift canal system for automatic plant watering, much to Mom’s dismay.
Nostalgia washed over me, and I felt profoundly grateful for the chance to recreate similar memories with my family.
The past few years since our relocation from Delhi to Saskatoon have been a rollercoaster of uncertainty for my family.
Our previous home in India was our initial joint investment as a young couple. The concept of ownership instilled in us a sense of authority—that we could mold this space uniquely “ours.” It served as a canvas for our dreams and ambitions.
It contrasted sharply with the home where I grew up. Delhi, like many other Indian metropolises at the time, was witnessing vertical expansion, and affordable housing options for middle-class individuals like my husband and me were limited to apartments in towering concrete complexes. Yet, we cherished our apartment. It featured expansive windows and sliding doors leading to spacious balconies. Sunlight flooded in almost all day, to the extent that we lamented it during scorching summers.
Over the years, we filled it with memories, with each nook holding a tale, and the walls resonating with laughter and tears.
It wasn’t vast. It wasn’t cramped. It was just right for the two of us, and later, for the three of us when our child arrived.
It was our sanctuary.
Leaving our cherished home behind to relocate thousands of miles away to Saskatoon was disquieting. It felt like we had left a piece of our hearts behind—a sentiment exacerbated by the transient nature of renting.
Our rental abode felt impersonal. The chill from outside seeped in, sending shivers down our spines. Thin walls magnified the sounds of neighbors’ coughs, and creaking floorboards made us wary of disturbing those below.
The rooms contained only essential furnishings. We hesitated to drill a hole, leaving the walls bare.
It was a place of residence, not a place to call home.
The upheaval of the COVID-19 pandemic, combined with our relocation to a new country, heightened the sense of impermanence. It was a period of turmoil but also adaptation, ultimately leading to our house purchase in September.
Now, as I sit cocooned in the warmth of our new Saskatoon abode, I see beyond bricks and mortar. I see the groundwork for a fresh chapter in our lives.
The house has been pivotal in helping us feel settled. Shelves are filling up with mementos. The rooms are absorbing the laughter, disputes, and love that define our lives. We are able to personalize it, crafting an environment that reflects our identity.
Here, we will forge new memories, mark milestones, and put down roots in a place that was once unfamiliar but now unequivocally feels like home.
For us, Saskatoon has transformed from a mere spot on the map into a beacon of hope. It has taught us that home is not just where you come from; it’s where you choose to be.