There is something about coming home that changes the way you see a place.
You return to familiar streets with older eyes. You notice the things you once took for granted, the histories hiding in plain sight, the things you never quite understood before, and the small details that make somewhere yours. You begin to understand that home is not simply where you grew up, but the place whose landscape, stories, and people have become part of you.
For me, that place is Sunderland.
A city shaped by the sea and the River Wear, by generations of shipbuilders, miners, glassmakers, and countless others whose work helped build the North East. A place with roots that stretch far beyond the industries for which it is best known, and a history shaped by people who have arrived from elsewhere, made lives here, and become part of its story.
In my hall, I walk past a painting of my great-grandfather's pit and a Sunderland shipbuilding advert every morning. I take my time to stop and look at them each day, reminded that this is part of my history, part of how my home came to be my home.
Sunderland is more than its city centre, more than its industrial past, and more than the things people think they know about it. It is the beaches and the cliffs, the river and the parks, the neighbouring towns and villages, the local traditions, and the everyday kindnesses that make a place feel like home.
It's the ham and pease pudding sandwich I've been looking forward to all morning. It's picking up treats from the local bakeries, ready to have my mum and nan round for coffee, and the quiet happiness of finally having them here, around my table. It's the neighbourhood children slipping notes through my letterbox saying, 'You're the best', because they know I've had a hard day. It's strawberry sauce (or monkey's blood as we would call it) melting into ice cream, the sea breeze on your cheeks and the cold air chilling your nose as you wander along the rocky beach. . It's the jar of sea glass at my mum's house, filled with little pieces collected by my brother, sister and me when we were small children. It's stepping off the Metro that now connects the place I called home at university with the place I call home today. It's the familiar chill in the air, carrying something of the past while making the future feel full of possibility. It's the feeling that, for once, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Coming back has given me the chance to rediscover Sunderland, and perhaps to rediscover a little of myself along the way.
This is my love letter to Sunderland: not because it is perfect, but because it is home.
Sunderland’s a fine place, it shines where it stands,
And the more I look on it, the more my heart warms;
And if I was there I would make myself free:
Every man to his mind, but Sunderland for me.
~ The Pleasures of Sunderland, Joseph Ritson (1765)
