Home goes with you wherever you go

Home goes with you wherever you go

I grew up in a quadrant of what was then the most densely populated city in the world. Despite being built on a lake and an area of high seismicity, it is a forgiving city. It's never too hot or cold (no matter how much we complain about barely reaching 8 or 30 degrees Celsius), there are 11 hours of sunlight a day throughout the year, and I don't know how it keeps going with its more than 21 million inhabitants. The city is like a mirage that makes us believe everything is stable, to the point that the big problems of the city's imagination are traffic, long lines, and parking.

Living in the city makes you forget easily. Everything can be solved with an app if you exchange what you want for the required number of hours on a keyboard: you can order food, buy movie tickets, go anywhere in the city, order cell phone covers from China, cancel someone forever, or reach out to your friends. Since then, I have changed my life a thousand times, many of them by force. I’ve built and lost many homes. Yet, I have kept very special people in my heart and in my life, those who walk with me despite time and distance.

Our concept of home is very outdated. We associate our first home with our families, a second with our partner, a third with the place where we are or where we dream of being, but each of these homes represents a small part of our essence. We conceive the home as a continually upgrading project—something like a path built throughout our lives.

When I think of my home, the first thing that comes to mind is the people I love the most; the feeling of bare feet on the carpet, the squeak of the door, the smell of food, or an unconditional hug. The return to grandma's house, that permanent refuge from childhood. However, what happens when the wallpaper fades and wood-smelling furniture wears off? What happens when you close the doors or tear down the walls for "progress" to arrive? Does the home disappear? Does it vanish?

Being homesick is a feeling that can be both deeply profound and emotionally vulnerable. It's a feeling of longing for the familiarity and comfort of the place we call home, whether that be a physical location or the people who make it feel like home. It's a feeling of missing the familiar sights, sounds, and smells that make us feel at ease and connected to the world around us. Being homesick is a constant struggle for some, an ache that never quite goes away. For others, it's a feeling that comes and goes in waves, triggered by specific events or memories. But, regardless of how it presents itself, being homesick is a natural and universal human experience, one that reminds us of the importance of connection and belonging in our lives.

There are too many things that intrigue us on the road to growing up and building new things, but let the doubt disappear and be grateful. Both growth and love require us to move toward people and times in which we cannot predict the outcome. I take the opportunity to see my fears up close, change occupations, visit all my families, daydream halfway through my coffee, go for a walk at noon, eat hungrily, and sleep tired.

Learning to deal with uncertainty will reveal that you’re on the right path. Yet never alone. Don’t forget where you come from; otherwise, you won't know where you go next. Home goes with you wherever you go.

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