Everybody keeps asking us when we are going home to Sweden for summer. (Nobody asks if we are going to Sweden). A legitimate question. The Swedes I know here all go home for summer.
We don't have a home in Sweden. We have a home in Cambridge. Going to Sweden is going away from home.
This reminds me of my previous move, and I try to remember at what point I stopped speaking of Moscow as "home". Being torn between two places is hard. Yet I remember answering the question: "Don't you long back to Russia" by saying: "I have my beloved in Sweden, I have my children in Sweden, I have my job in Sweden, I have planted trees in Sweden. Sweden is home". I have written a short story about it (published and performed as a summer play in Lund Cathedral).
I won't be torn between two places again. The children are grownups now and have a life of their own. They come and visit us. I have my beloved in Cambridge, I have my job in Cambridge, and I have planted trees in Cambridge. Well, a rose bush.