call of home

One of the most common questions we get about our living situation is why we chose Bath as our home. To be clear, Bath is a charming and beautiful enough city that it is its own reason for relocating here — but there’s another reason we chose Bath: it’s relatively central to all of the members of my in-laws, while still also being a relatively easy train ride to London. My partner Marcus has family in Gloucestershire (about an hour away) and Bristol (about 20 minutes away), but the majority of his family is in the coastal county of Cornwall (3 hours south — not a short drive, but considerably shorter than the 5 hours to London).

I’ve not shared much about Marcus, other than that he’s English. He was born in the Midlands of England, but when he was still a child, he, his mother, and his siblings moved to Cornwall, where much of his mother’s family lived (and still continues to live). Cornwall is a pretty singular place: it’s considered one of the Celtic nations, and definitely has a cultural identity over and above a British one. And while Marcus is not technically Cornish, because he spent most of his youth there he certainly considers Cornwall home, and identifies as Cornish in most ways.

I’ve written before about the way that no matter how much time I spend away, Trinidad will always be home to me. But last weekend, we roadtripped down to Cornwall, and I realized the same is true for Marcus: as soon as we crossed the county line, Marcus almost visibly exhaled. The Cornish coast is where Marcus feels most Marcus. It’s where the food is the most familiar, where the wind of the ocean and the voices of the people call him home.

I get it, man.

The video at the top of this post gives you a glimpse into our time there. And my wish for us this week: may we exhale, wherever we are, because it feels like home.

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