Posted by: Peter Rehn

What does it mean to be truly at home? That’s something I have been pondering since the day I left my childhood home.

I was born and raised in a solid, caring family in a small Finnish town. One of the few towns where Swedish remains the majority language. Only about five percent of Finns speak Swedish as their native language, but in my hometown the figure was over 80 percent. That meant that I learnt Swedish and Finnish from an early age.

Early on, though, I had an urge to see something more. Something more than my hometown. That happened later, thanks to a chance encounter online. One Friday evening, feeling restless in my bachelor pad, I wandered online and into a chat room.

I met a girl from Ireland, and we hit it off. A few months later, I had packed up my life and was on a ship sailing towards Ireland. That’s when part two of my life began, and the part where I got to see the world.

After securing a job with an international software company, I quickly advanced in my career and eventually became responsible for a global team. That meant travelling a lot, and I loved it. I loved seeing the places, meeting the people and learning from it all. It was very different from the small corner of Finland I had known only a few years earlier.

Life in Ireland was good to me. A real learning experience. I married the girl whom I met online. We bought a house, and her daughter soon gave us a grandchild. Life was fantastic.

But as they say, nothing lasts forever. Layoffs hit the industry, and suddenly I found myself job hunting. After a few months I found a job, one that turned out didn’t suit me, so I left. Otherwise, I would have suffered too much mentally.

Perhaps that was what pushed my wife and me to decide that we should try something else, somewhere else. We had talked about moving to Spain, so we started exploring that option. Being a couple of action, we soon had sold our house in Ireland. We packed the car with the essentials, sent the rest in a van, and boarded the ferry for Spain.

First, we rented a small apartment in a bustling old town with everything on our doorstep. It was a complete contrast to our previous life in a large house in the countryside in Ireland. Different, but refreshing, and we adapted while we kept house hunting. Our efforts soon bore fruit, and we found a house with great views, sitting on a hillside off the Mediterranean coast, and we quickly sealed the deal.

The sun was generous, the pool inviting, and for a time we believed we had found our place. As with any relationship or place, the glow of the beginning eventually fades, revealing the cracks beneath.

Right now, we are not sure. Should we stay here in Spain or move? Perhaps back to Finland. My wife is Irish, but we don’t consider Ireland a viable option right now. There is a reason we moved away, and it was not just the lure of the sun. It was deeper than that, rooted in the societal transformation we witnessed.

So we shall see. To be honest, I’ve not been homesick since I left Finland, until now. For some reason, exploring the possibilities of moving back has ignited the most intense wave of homesickness I’ve ever experienced. Perhaps it’s my age. I honestly don’t know. It’s come as a surprise.

What all this has taught me though is that for me, a home is more than a physical place. It’s the people you share it with. The society around it and how well you integrate into it. 

I’ve always felt at home, wherever I am  — in Finland, in Ireland and here in Spain too, to some extent. 

I’ve made a lot of friends wherever I’ve lived, including in the relatively short time we’ve lived here. That helps to feel at home, but for some reason, it feels like something is missing this time. I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps the fact that I’ve not secured a job has left me unchallenged, and it has not allowed me to integrate into society as much as I would have hoped.

Life is a journey, and my journey has been a good one so far. I’ve learned a lot, experienced a lot. Perhaps because, as I mentioned, I am a man of action and quick decisions. I don’t hesitate when I’ve made up my mind, and I consider that a strength.

Where my journey will take me next is a mystery, thankfully. Back to Finland, or somewhere unexpected. Wherever it is, I am confident that my courage and life experiences will help me adapt.

Home isn’t a dot on a map or a physical place. It’s the people and the connections you make, and above all, the courage to keep moving forward.

Posted By

Peter Rehn

About Peter Rehn: Peter Rehn is a Finland-born writer who has lived in Ireland for over twenty years and now divides his time between Spain and Ireland. Writing in his third language, English, he explores themes of belonging, resilience, and the human journey through micro fiction, short stories, and reflective essays. His work has appeared on platforms like Spillwords, and he is currently editing both a horror novella and a children’s book. When not writing, Peter is navigating what “home” means while pondering what comes next in life.

Check out Peter’s Work Here:

Website: https://peterrehn.com/

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