Home Sweet Home

Well, after a nice two week break over in the states, T and I have returned to reality. Back to work, and also a nice encounter with a bit of the flu, which everyone in Ireland seems to be carrying around in one form or another. I'm just lucky to have the sore throat variety and not the vomiting bug!

We had a great time seeing friends and family, catching up, eating way too much, shopping, etc. During this time and since I've returned, I catch myself referring to both Indianapolis and Sixmilebridge as home. For instance, "When I was home, before I came back, er....home, uh.." You get the idea. It makes it hard to figure out which to stick to.

Not too long after I moved here, I was having lunch in an American cafe in Limerick, owned by a Chicago couple. It's a nice place, and always very welcoming to me. (We Midwesterners find each other and stick together!!) I was chatting about my plans to go home for Christmas at the time (2005) and Ruth was quick to correct me and ask "Megan, are you staying in Ireland, or is Indy home?" I didn't know what to tell her. I said we were staying in Ireland indefinitely. Can't get much safer than that. (You can tell I used to do communications for politicians.)

Do I consider Sixmilebridge home? Yes. It's not only where I hang my hat, it's where my in-laws (who are wonderful) are, and where T is. I feel comfortable here. But am I able to transfer the label of "home" from Indy to Sixmilebridge? Not quite. And probably not ever. When I was in Indy for our visit, I was torn between wanting to kick back and do nothing but watch the snow fall from the cozy living room of my parents' house and wanting to race around and take in all the sites and sounds of the place that raised me, that has grown up with me and that will always give me a reason to go visit the states. Not only are my dearest friends and family there, Indy has a way of opening its arms up to you, no matter how long you've been away.

For example, the Irish are known for being chatty. And believe me, it's true. But so are Hoosiers. I had forgotten how easy it is to find yourself conversing with a complete stranger in a long line at the grocery store or with the clerk at The Gap, or with the happy-go-lucky retiree turned sales assistant at the woodworking store that was so intrigued by Tristan I thought he might adopt him. Europeans often laugh and joke about how over-the-top polite storeworkers are to greet their customers in America. I admit it's at times overbearing (and yet I also know from working in retail that it's largely an anti-theft measure, so there!). But there are some times when it's nice, and in Indy, it's largely very genuine. I suppose Hoosiers and the Irish are somewhat alike in that way.

Yes, it was hard to leave Indy (home) and head back to Ireland (home). But I got a nice welcome (home) here, too. Back in January, the week before we left, we went down to the pub to try and catch as much of the Colts vs. Ravens game as we could. Remembering that, when we arrived at the same pub a week after we returned (and a week after the Colts won the Super Bowl!), the locals all cheered for the Colts, each mentioning to me that they watched some of it, or looked to see if the Colts made it and won. They all went out of their way, as if I were in a Colts-loving bar in Indy or something.

I can think of worse things than having two places to call home. I suppose I don't have to reserve the moniker for one or the other.