The Longing for Home: A Journey of Nostalgia and Reflection

2024-12-10 1166 words 6 minutes

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It’s been nearly one month since I returned from my homeland, and I’ve never felt homesick like this before. It’s a feeling that’s almost hard to explain, yet it’s so overwhelming, and I can’t shake it off. You see, I’ve been living away from home since I was 14. Now, at 28, I’ve spent more than half of my life away. For the past six years, I’ve been living abroad, visiting home only twice. Yet, this past visit was so different. I went back to my country after two and a half years, and what I felt during those 40 days—spending the festival season with my family has completely shifted something within me.

My parents had been asking me to visit during the festival season for years, but I always hesitated, unsure about returning. This year, I finally decided to go, and it had been six years since I last celebrated a festival with them. Before moving abroad, I never missed a festival at home. Festivals were about relaxing, having fun, and enjoying time with family. It’s strange because the thought of seeing them and celebrating together should’ve excited me. Instead, I felt scared—scared of leaving my work, disrupting my office schedule, and stepping away from the fast-paced life I had built here. I kept worrying about everything that might not go according to plan.

Yet, when I finally got there, everything fell into place beautifully. Looking back, I regret not making the trip sooner. All those years of not celebrating festivals with my family now feel like lost opportunities. If I had truly wanted to, I could have managed it. Living in a digital world, I talk to my mom and dad on video calls almost daily. But being physically present is completely different. There’s a kind of relief, a comfort, that words can’t describe—you simply feel it.

Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten what it truly means to celebrate with loved ones. I had gotten so caught up in my own life abroad, in the rush of daily living, that the idea of being with family became overwhelming instead of comforting. It was almost like the scene from Cast Away—when Tom Hanks’ character, stranded on an island for years, finds himself struggling to connect with people again when he gets back. I felt that way, too. I’ve been living so independently for so long that I forgot how it feels to laugh with abandon, to share silly jokes, and do those ridiculous things with your family that make you feel so alive.

But when I returned home, surrounded by my parents, my sister, my grandmother, and relatives I hadn’t seen in years, something shifted. I saw the joy in their eyes, the happiness they felt simply by my presence. It reminded me of what truly matters—the connections, the love, the simple moments that bring us joy. It made me realize how much I missed that life—the peaceful, slow-paced life back home, where you can hear the roosters crowing and the birds chirping, where there’s fresh air, greenery, and people just taking their time to live.

Living in the city, immersed in the fast-paced world of work, technology, and deadlines, I had forgotten the beauty of this way of life. Money can buy temporary happiness, but it can never buy the kind of deep fulfillment I felt during my time at home. The nostalgia of sitting with family, the laughter of my cousins, the sight of their children growing up—it all reminded me of how much I had missed. And yes, it made me feel old, too! The little kids who were so small when I last saw them were all grown up. It made me realize just how much time had passed, and in a way, how much I had missed.

I even went on a bike trip with my friends up into the mountains, and for a moment, everything felt still. I could hear the quiet, the peace, and all the memories came flooding back. We laughed and shared stories of the good old days. It was such a simple joy, but one that I had long forgotten while wrapped up in the chaos of life abroad.

Now that I’m back, I can’t shake the feeling of homesickness. The silence of my apartment feels too loud. I can hear my breathing echo in the stillness, and when I step outside, the world feels so fast, so rushed. People walk quickly, eyes glued to their phones, their lives moving as though on autopilot. And here I am, missing the tranquility, the slow rhythm of life back home. It’s as if the city has become a machine, and I’ve become part of it, moving through it without truly living in it.

I think the only way to truly understand the value of life back home is by living in both worlds. It’s like you don’t realize the warmth of a blanket until you’ve been out in the cold. The comfort of home, the love of family, the peacefulness of the countryside—it’s something that only becomes truly precious when you’ve experienced the fast-paced world outside.

As I reflect on my time back home, I realize just how much I took for granted. The small moments, the laughter, the sense of belonging—these are the things that really matter. Life can be busy and overwhelming, but it’s important to remember where we come from and to appreciate the people who make our lives meaningful. And as much as I’ve made a life for myself abroad, I’ve learned that no amount of success or comfort can replace the feeling of being truly at home.

And this feeling reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite books of all time:

“The most difficult part of life is not what we leave behind, but what we choose to leave behind.” – Khaled Hosseini, in The Kite Runner.

This quote perfectly reflects the emotional conflict I feel. The hardest part of living away from home wasn’t the physical distance — it was the emotional distance I had created by choosing to stay away for so long. In a way, I had allowed myself to forget the warmth, the laughter, and the simplicity of life with family. I didn’t realize what I was leaving behind until I came back and experienced it all again. The memories, the connections, the sounds of my village, the scent of the food my mother cooks, the laughter shared with cousins — they were always there, but I had chosen to be far from them. And now, after returning, I understand how much that part of me had been missing.

So, for anyone who’s reading this and is caught up in the rush of life—take a moment to step back, appreciate the people around you, and don’t forget where you came from. Because, in the end, home is where the heart is. And there’s no place like it.