Coming Home

Home used to be a place to avoid. Now, it’s a place to return. For the longest time I thought why waste money on a plane ticket to somewhere I’ve spent most my life when I could go somewhere new and fascinating. The thing with getting older, it changes you. You spend your earlier years looking at those older and saying no, that’ll never be me, but then you arrive to that very same age and you’re completely content with being that older, wiser, and calmer person.

The idea of home for me is the soothing solitude that comes from listening in on a conversation you don’t have to participate in. There are no expectations. It’s both familiar and comfortable, yet different because I’m different.

I no longer see home through the lens of youth, but rather through the eyes of a seasoned traveler, who left, came back, left again, and will continue to come back because in a constantly changing world we all need something to return to. The past will always remain that one thing that alludes us and sometimes the closest we can ever get to it is coming home.