Authored by Anusuya Datta, a writer and journalist residing in Saskatoon, this First Person column offers a personal perspective. For more details on First Person stories, refer to the FAQ page.
During the early days of December in Saskatoon, as we adorned our house with holiday lights, the absence of snow didn’t diminish my admiration for our home.
I’ve always believed in the saying, “Home is where the heart is.” After three years in Canada, it feels like we have discovered our true abode.
The instant my husband, teenager, and I entered the house during our house-hunting expedition, we were captivated by the profusion of windows. Sunlight streamed in from all angles, enveloping every room in a cozy radiance, even the basement!
“Mom, this feels like home,” my child remarked.
It had been a while since I had seen that genuine smile on my child’s face.
“And not like a dentist’s office!”
This was our teenager’s usual cheeky self, comparing it to the numerous other “perfect” houses we had visited.
This residence exuded beauty in its simplicity and snugness, featuring an elegant front lawn and a backyard 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 Childhood Home
Standing in our backyard surrounded by Christmas lights, with fading greenery and a carpet of leaves underfoot, memories of my childhood home in India flooded back. The expansive front lawn boasted a fragrant jasmine bush and towering sunflower plants. In the backyard, we had Mom’s vegetable garden, which my siblings and I once dug up entirely to install a makeshift canal system for watering the plants, much to Mom’s dismay.
Nostalgia washed over me, and I felt profoundly grateful for the chance to recreate similar experiences with my own family.
The years following our relocation from Delhi to Saskatoon have been a whirlwind of uncertainties for my family.
Our previous home in India was our first investment as a young couple. The idea of ownership gave us a sense of command over the space — a canvas to paint our dreams and aspirations.
It was vastly different from the house I grew up in. Delhi, like many other Indian metropolises, was witnessing vertical growth, leaving middle-class individuals like my husband and me with the option of apartments in towering concrete complexes. Nevertheless, we cherished our apartment. It boasted large windows and sliding doors opening to spacious balconies. Sunlight flooded in almost all day, to the point that we lamented it during scorching summers.
Over the years, we filled it with memories, where every nook held a tale, and the walls reverberated with laughter and tears.
It wasn’t expansive. It wasn’t cramped. It was just perfect for us. And later for three, when our child arrived.
It was our sanctuary.
The Transience of Rental Living
Leaving our home behind to relocate thousands of miles to Saskatoon felt unsettling.