If home is where the heart is then I’m either a broken or lucky man.

You see, I’ve left a piece of my heart in every village, town and city that I’ve lived in since I was a kid. I have connections and family and friends in all of these places. I have memories and moments from all of these places. They were my home and when I think of them, I still feel, somewhere deep inside of me, like they still are. 

I lived on a beach in Newcastle. There was a train just a little bit north that I got so used to I stopped hearing. There was a small yard that was great for BBQs and beer and friends. It’s been years since then – heck, the house that I lived in has been torn down and the lot is empty now. But still, when I have the chance, I love to stop and stand by the water. It’s calming to skip stones and watch the water and just be.

In Ottawa I lived the longest distance from my family. I watched my nephew in his early development. I met great friends. I spent awesome Sunday’s doing crossword puzzles in a gay bar that even hosted me (and other’s away from their families) for Christmas dinner. I have memories that will never be replaced or replicated. I started reading comic books. I became a strong (medium) drummer on Rock Band. I laughed and cried and sang and danced. And every time I go back I am welcomed like some people wish I never left. That’s a pretty darn good feeling.

When I was 18 I moved from the country to Port Hope to live with my grandparents. It was one of the luckiest things that ever happened to me. To get to spend time with them means more and more as time passes and I miss them now that they are both gone. I got a semi-taste of independence and what it feels like not to live with my parents. I grew as a person and member of my school and community.

After Newcastle I moved to Peterborough. I needed a change, opportunity, work and I found it there. More great friends took me into their group where we staged mini Country 105 dance parties, camped in fields, wrote songs and really just hung out without too much worry. We were young. We were happy (mostly). When I (rarely) am in Peterborough I love the feeling of the small city that feels like a small town. It was a great lead in to Ottawa.

Now I’m in Toronto. The Big Smoke. Ontario’s capital. My home. I’ve been in Parkdale since October 2008 (time flies) and I love this neighbourhood. I love this city. The jobs I’ve had and the things I’ve learned. The friends I’ve made that have been through a bunch with me. The love that I’ve felt. The opportunities that I’ve been lucky enough to have. I love living in Toronto. We’re world class. We have big league baseball. I’m grateful for the chances that I’ve had to make something of myself here and to try and be an adult and all that jazz. It might not be for everybody. But it’s for me.

Welcome, last on the list alphabetically, is where my mom’s home is. It’s where I lived from grade 6 to 12. It’s where I go now to see family and have bonfires and fish and BBQ and celebrate holidays. My bedroom might be an office now, but that doesn’t matter. The house and property are still full of memories and my mom and step-dad always make me feel like it is still a place that I can feel safe and at home whenever I want or need to. It’s out in the sticks. There’s no public transit. Heck, the neighbours can’t see you or hear you. But there are stars and space and time almost slows down when the weather is right.

Where did all of this come from today? I don’t know. I’m not thinking about moving. I’m happy here. I miss my friends, but that happens all the time. Maybe it’s the anniversary of the move that crept up on me. Maybe it’s just life. I don’t know.

But it’s nice to think about those places and how the time I spent there and the experiences I had have helped to make me the person that I am now.

I’ve been lucky. I am lucky. And I hope that when you look back at your life and places that you have called home that you feel as lucky as I do.

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Joshua Murray

creator of content, daddy blogger, writer, coffee drinker, fan of the Batman. proud mo bro. prouder dad.