HOME
I’m not from here — not originally anyway. Sure, Glasgow’s home now, but Inverness is where I was born. I grew up there looking out onto rolling grey hills; swathes of moody heather; and vast, open skies, just like a postcard. Our wee house clung to the stony coast, underneath arcs of salty spray and strong winds. That house has a history, built just after the Jacobite uprising in the mid-1700s its walls were old, cold stone that chilled the rooms. But my memories from inside those walls are happy ones, cherished ones.
When I first moved away to Glasgow for university (despite loving my new adventure) I would mark train home in my diary for the third week in December, anticipating going back to the familiarity of my parents’ house, where I knew I’d find soup bubbling on the hob and a small fire in the ancient Rayburn. So I don’t know when I started putting train home to also mean returning to Glasgow. It happened without me noticing. Home was in two places now.
Glasgow is where I did my growing up — in the messy expanse of this city I’ve found friends, supporters, and allies — and I’ve constructed myself as the same. I’ve offered my shoulder to cry on. I’ve rallied to causes. I’ve found people just like me. So it’s here that I’ve set down my roots. It’s here that I feel that I belong.
The other day in George Square I gave an interview to a journalist about the EU referendum result… What do you make of the result? Disappointing, worrying, bleak. What did you think of the debate? Sensationalist and unethical. What will happen next? We don’t know, but we’re worried. What was the point of gathering in George Square given that the referendum was over? To show solidarity with the city’s immigrants, to make it clear that we think differently to the politicians scapegoating people who have come here to make the UK their home. What would that do? We couldn’t be sure, but we hoped to offer reassurance and forge a positive route forwards. Great, and what’s your name? Aileen McKay. Where are you from? Glasgow. Thanks for your time. The reporter closed their notepad, smiled, and walked away before I realised. I’d said Glasgow without even thinking about it.
It was a pretty pleasing realisation. Six years on from arriving here as a wide-eyed country lass, I feel closer to Glasgow than ever. I love it here. It’s big enough to get lost in for an afternoon, but you’ll probably still manage to run into someone you know. Even the folk you don’t know are dead, dead friendly. And it’s a beautiful place: from my snug corner of post-war council estate in Govan, to the tall tenements in the south and the west; from the iconic skyline to the green parks; from the rushing motorways speeding high over the river to the cobbled back streets.
My Dad jokes that he’s not sure if I adopted Glasgow or if Glasgow adopted me. I reckon it’s a bit of both… Glasgow is my home and I belong to Glasgow.
Aileen McKay @AbsolutelyAileen The Wish Tree Project @BookwormMcKay