In my head, home used to mean a place where I feel loved and comfortable—where I have my belongings, all the memories of my childhood, and where my family is waiting for me. Home is a place where you return to recharge, and experience comfort and nourishment.
For a time, I also thought home was something I build for myself in my life as I move along.
But these days, I think home is a person. All these things are held by one person in life, and that person is a mother. A mother makes a home warm and full. She builds a home like a nest for you, making sure you get the comfort and love you long for in that home. The love you receive makes you think about home in a certain way, and she has all of that.
I think home is always changing—an idea and a term in our lives and minds, depending on where we are in life.
2024.11.06 These days, I think a lot about my home country, probably because I miss my family members and idolize the days I spent there with my friends. It's a really weird feeling to think about and process, as I’ve now lived away for 2 years. I keep thinking, which country is now my home? Since I moved, I don’t feel like my own country is home anymore, but I can’t quite call the Netherlands my home either.
I have these mixed emotions about going home. Every time I’m there, I long to be back here, living my own life. The concept of home has become difficult and changed, but I can’t quite grasp how or why. I just think I can't live or feel the same way about home anymore.
2024.11.08 I keep connecting my image of home to my family, my friends, our pets at home, and the places we used to hang out.
For example, I would call my grandparents’ house a second home, as I spent a lot of time there as a child in their village. When I moved away in my first year, I missed those times the most. When I said I missed home, I was really missing the meal my grandmother cooked for me, the time my grandpa spent playing with us, the hot summer days, playing with all of my cousins, and sleeping in one big bedroom with all of them.
I keep specific objects in my living room that remind me of the comfort I have from home. For example, there is this diary my mom made for me, so my primary school classmates could draw in it and sign it for me. I actually never check those drawings, only the ones my closest family members drew for me.
But there are objects I don’t keep with me, though they still remind me of home. My grandmother has all these traditionally painted and drawn plates hanging on her wall.
The food that my mother used to make, and that my grandmother makes, immediately gives me the sense of home and the feeling of it. One time, my grandfather told me that you will never be able to mimic your mother’s cooking because it’s just so special and made with care. You can do the same recipes, but it will never taste the same, as she is not the one making it. And I actually find this to be true. I’ve tried to copy many times, but something was always missing. I guess I could say it's related to the feeling of home.
I definitely feel less connected since I moved, but on a more rational level than an emotional one. Emotionally, I’ve actually become more attached to my heritage and culture. But rationally, after living a much better life in another country, I feel like I could never go back.
But it’s interesting how my national awareness has actually developed after moving. I find myself listening to more traditional music, making more traditional foods, and sort of starting to feel proud of sharing my culture with other people.
2024.11.15. I don’t really get homesick anymore, but in the beginning, it was very heavy for me. I FaceTimed a lot with my family members, tried to cook national foods, and went for a lot of walks and bike rides in
