Being An Immigrant

Leave a cooment if you’ve ever experienced immigration.

I immigrated to Australia from the UK when I was twenty-five years old. In so many ways, it was an easy transition: the same language, similar food and culture. I had lived in Japan for three years, from 21 to 24, so compared to Japan, it felt like the UK. Except the weather was much better, the beaches were spectacular, and it offered a wonderful outdoor lifestyle to raise children. 

And for twenty years, I didn’t look back. Australia has been kind to me and my family in many ways, and I am deeply grateful. 

But I can’t explain the joy I feel when standing in a damp, green forest that smells of home—walking in the countryside and seeing the sheep and cows, the cow parsley, buttercups, daisies, foxgloves, apple trees and oak trees—the poetry of children’s story books.

This is the land of my ancestors. I know the soil here and how to grow things. I know the bees, the flies, the spiders, the sheep, and the cows. I know this land, this is my land, and I think it will always be home. 

Immigration is a powerful experience, a gift to me, to have two passports and two homes. Sometimes I find my heart years for home, and I have to balance that yearning with practical life. 

So, here I am. I have come to be with my friends and family in the UK for three weeks. I’m currently in a little B&B near a campsite where my mother is camping. I came and surprised her and my good friend Laura. They had such a big surprise! And for the next three weeks, I will breathe in home. I will breathe it into my heart to nourish me and hold it there.

I’d love to hear how others find have found immigration.