Home Isn’t A Place, But A Feeling
It’s created from moments of connection, understanding, and peace.
I step off the plane and pause at the top of the jet bridge. A gust of cold air greets me — a stark contrast to the temperatures I’ve grown accustomed to on distant shores.
I clear immigration and walk into the arrivals area of London’s Heathrow Airport. It’s bustling with travelers and announcements, creating a symphony of speech that sounds foreign to my ears after spending lots of time abroad.
People talk about mundane aspects of English life, like the weather, football, and the Prime Minister’s precarious position in Downing Street. I remember standing in this same spot years ago, eager to travel and find a place to call ‘home’. However, the sense of belonging I sought eluded me, and I still feel like I don’t belong in my own country.
I’m seated at a small wooden table in a café with my childhood friend, Ben. I glance out the window and look at the familiar sights of my hometown — old brick buildings with their ivy-covered walls, well-kept sidewalks, and towering oak trees that have stood for generations.
I take a sip of my coffee as Ben reminisces about the past. He jokes about the good old days when we went on adventures to faraway lands, like the forest on the other…
