Home has been in flux for me lately. With travel comes the idea that I’m a nomad, that I can become comfortable wherever I lay my head. And to some extent, it’s true. I open a suitcase, light some incense, set up a playlist, and move on my yoga mat, and I feel grounded. A sense of home lives in these rituals.
But soon, our transition into travel will slow, perhaps even come to an end. I’ll still travel and write, but it'll look a bit different. Less skipping through places, more staying. More living. As our Southeast Asian journey winds down in Thailand this August, I’ve made a quiet but powerful decision:
I’m going home.
A Return I Never Expected
Home, in this case, means the last place I lived with my parents. The apartment where I first shared with my now-husband. The same sofa we bought together, the bed we carefully assembled twenty years ago, choosing it with the kind of optimism you carry when you’re building a life from scratch.
Two decades later, we’re still together—and so is that home.
But something’s shifted. Not just in the space, but in me. There’s a pull I didn’t expect. A need to return. To be there, not out of obligation, but choice. Not because I’m lost, but because something in me feels ready.
Ready to stand still for a while.
Ready to spend time with my parents while I have the chance.
Ready to reopen old wounds so they can finally heal.
Visiting over the years wasn’t always easy. There’s heartbreak stitched into the act of leaving at 22, something in that choice never quite settled for them. But this return feels different. It’s chosen. It’s needed. And for the first time, it feels like an act of love.
A Year of Becoming
This year, I thought it would be about travel. Volunteering. Photography. Building something new, a business, a brand, a way to work and live with more freedom. However, this year has been about healing. Coming back to myself. Returning to my roots. Listening, honestly, to what I want life to feel like moving forward.
I’ve moved beyond the kind of career that only makes sense on paper. I used to believe I was helping people in my corporate role, but it wasn’t sustainable, and it wasn’t personal. I was helping a system, not a soul. And that left me feeling empty.
When I ask myself who truly needs my help right now, the answer is clear: my parents.
Not for money. Not for recognition.
But simply for time. For presence. For love.
Living on the other side of the world created space. At times, that space became a distance, emotional as well as physical. Our relationship became strained. Torn. For a while, it barely existed. But time is funny like that. Everything moves forward, even the things we think are stuck. This relationship grew, too, maybe not in the way I imagined, but in the way that mattered.
Sometimes we don’t fix things, we choose love.
Redefining What Matters
There’s a stillness that’s come from all these months without an office, without a part to play. There’s a spaciousness in the mind when you step away from who you were expected to be. And in that space, something real emerged: a desire to help the people I love. To ease the burdens I can. To simply be there.
And maybe, to heal a part of myself that I once left behind in the process.
I never thought I’d go back. Not like this. Not in any way, really. But there’s a quiet wisdom in following the pull, even when it surprises you, especially when it surprises you.
What If Life Isn’t About the Path You Thought?
As I venture into the unknown, I wonder:
What decisions have you made recently that surprised you?
What dreams did you walk away from, only to find something more meaningful?
What path changed the course of your life forever?
Change is rarely easy. But it is real. Constant. And it happens, with or without our buy-in.
So, what have you embraced that led you somewhere you never planned to go?
And what did it teach you?
