When I left my hometown, I really had no idea what was ahead of me. I was reluctant to part ways with the only life I had known, to pursue a life that I had little knowledge of. I was still hopeful and excited about the future, but I knew that nothing would ever be the same. 

Throughout the years, even though I gradually adapted to life in a foreign country, molding myself into a “new” version that fit in better, part of me always dreamt of returning, maybe not forever, but at least for a little while. There were so many things I missed - certain flavors, certain people, certain routines - that I would never get to experience outside of my hometown. And sometimes I wondered, after being away for so long, will it still feel like “home” to me? 

After a decade, I finally got the chance to visit again, and it stirred up a whirlwind of emotions. I was over the moon yet nervous, because I wasn’t not sure how much I really knew about this place anymore. I felt emotionally attached but out of touch in a place I once called home; I felt incredibly relieved but inevitably guilty for not spending more time with those I had missed so dearly. But then I was so caught up in these conflicting feelings that I was no longer present, and doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of the visit? It took me some time to process everything, and I realized that I’m allowed to be emotional, and also allowed to just relish every moment without second guessing anything. 

The whole experience left me feeling more content than ever.

I think it’s true that you will always be able to find a new place to settle down, to feel at ease in, but the place where you spent the first half of your life still holds inconceivable significance, and it will never be replaced. To be honest, I’m still grappling with the notion of a place that “feels like home”, but I don’t think I’m so desperate to figure out what it means anymore. 

I wanted to share this slice of my memory with all of you, and I hope wherever you are, you have found an anchor, whether it be physical or not, and I hope you will always feel less alone and more grounded when you think of it.

The photograph is available for mint on Zora.