A Proper Goodbye

Last time we left Hong Kong, we left in a hurry. No pause. No proper goodbye.

So here it is. A proper goodbye to my home, Hong Kong.

I miss the cheap, safe convenience. I miss the MTR. The buses. The walking. The need of no driving.

Not the taxis so much.

I miss the bread. 小時候、品穀、Bakehouse. The UK has its croissants, sure, but that’s all it has.

I miss being able to walk to my 24 hour gym at 6am.

I miss Chinese vegetables, my default safe choice.

I miss alternative medicine. Chinese medicine.

I miss the shopping. The unrelenting distractions that help when the voices in my head get too loud.

I miss the relationships we built: the guards, LFY, Bakehouse. I don’t miss how long it takes to turn Hong Kong’s default rude, guarded, transactional attitudes into the version I love: explicitly rude, implicitly caring.

I miss morning walks. I miss the ritual of buying a 7-Eleven coffee.

I miss feeling less guilty about leaving my mom behind. I don’t miss the stress that comes with being near my family.

I miss how much time my kids get with their grandparents and extended family. I miss the freedom that creates for us.

I miss Maryann, and the freedom and convenience she has afforded us.

I miss the team at the school, my only real source of work and the only place where my few clear strengths actually got used.

I miss Hong Kong winter. Not the summer. Not the heat. Not the aircon. Not that smelly and sticky version of the city we become.

I don’t miss the air of self-censorship. I don’t miss the tourists. I don’t miss the constant negativity. I don’t miss the lack of space. I don’t miss the molding.

I miss you, Hong Kong. You still feel like home because familiarity is its own kind of comfort. You feel like home because family is still here. Even as the city changes fast, the things that matter to me are still here: convenience, food, people, rhythm.

I don’t hate the UK. I don’t even dislike it. The people are kind. Things are orderly enough. Life works.

But it is different. It is still unfamiliar. And it is far too far from the people who made “home” feel automatic.

My aunt moved back to Hong Kong after spending her entire professional life in the US. Her kids were born and raised there. They’re grown now, living their own American lives. And still, she chose to spend the last trimester of her life in Hong Kong, the home she left for more than thirty years.

Hong Kong is becoming unacceptable in ways that matter, especially for our children. And eventually it will be up to our kids to decide where they want to be.

But for me, where is home? What will make me feel grounded?

Familiarity can be cultivated, I guess … You can learn new streets, new systems, new rituals. But family can’t be manufactured. When they’re not around, everything stays a little foreign, no matter how long you live there.

So maybe this is the real question I’m carrying: if my family isn’t in the same place, will I always feel slightly away from home, wherever I am?