Home Hunting

Over the past five years, when people in Tokyo asked me where I was from, I would smile and say “Minnesota.”  Never "The States”, never ‘Minneapolis” (cause I always felt bad for St. Paul), instead “Minnesota” and then giggle when I said it, cause I loved how it landed.  Most people had answers like Johannesburg and Melbourne.  Mine was Minnesota.  

When we moved back here, one month ago, I knew I was going home.  Home sweet home.  Sure, I didn’t grow up here.  Sure, we didn’t have a house here.  But our boys were born here, and it was where our one-way ticket to Tokyo was purchased from back in 2018, so we were returning home. 

A few weeks after arriving back in Minnesota, we settled into our short-term rental and started house-hunting.  I had put such deep thought into where we landed.  I felt choosing one of the first outer ring suburbs from the city was the right call.  Still city, but not too city.  Still the burbs, but not too burby.  Good public schools, walkable location, liberal neighbors.  I knew this would be a big transition for the boys and my goal was once they started elementary school, it would be their forever school.

I was so excited to look at houses a mile radius away from our rental but as we started to explore they weren’t right.  No backyards, no interesting architecture, low ceilings with no space to breathe. 

So we started to expand our search looking in neighborhoods further out, but not too far out.  In places with more space, but not too much space.  In areas with cooler houses, but where there are still kids cause the schools are good.  And most importantly, with a community that I could slot right into.  

I understand how important community is.  You gather with your kid’s friend’s parents and then hang with neighbors on your street.  I’m watching how deeply connected my friends are to the house to the right and to the left of them, cause they shared the COVID years together.  But it’s hard to figure out which community is right for you when it’s 10 degrees outside, everyone is huddled indoors and it’s all covered in snow.

So I asked my friends that are now scattered all across the Twin Cities and each declare their neighborhood the best: Hopkins, Minnetonka, Wayzata, Plymouth, Roseville, Edina, Moundsview, Lakeville, St. Paul, Mahtomedhi, St. Anthony, St. Louis Park…you name it and I have a friend who lives there, loves it and thinks I should move there too.

The thing is, none of them feel right.  Tokyo felt right.  I’m shocked that I can move home and yet feel so not at home.  Home is supposed to be warm and cozy and grounding.  I have never felt more untethered. 

Hopping off of this wild ride, how am I supposed to settle into an average house, on an average street, in an average suburb?

This is the next chapter of my life.  It CAN NOT be average.  I want it to be the best chapter yet - but the bar is set real high.  I so desperately want to find the right stage for an amazing next act to unfold and yet somehow, each place I look at feels like the end, instead of the beginning.   

I thought repatriation wouldn’t effect me.  I thought: I’m smarter, I’m stronger, I’m different, I’ve got this.  Guess not.  

I thought I could slot back into my old life.  That I knew that no one would want to talk about Japan, so I just wouldn’t talk about it.   But the thing is, even if I don’t speak about it, it happened. As much as I pretend to be the old me, I’m not. 

A lot can change in five years.  I’m in constant amazement of new technology at the orthodontist, new packaging at the grocery store or the fact that THC is in everything.  Life has changed and I have too.

So I continue the house hunt.  Even when I know damn well, it isn’t about the house.  Home is where the heart is, so I am home.  But if you see a cool mid-century house in a great school district, with a wooded backyard, on the best street ever - can you let me know?  I’m ready to go home.