The dream was always to escape. To get away from the monotony of everyday life and find something else, something more. It’s the reason so many people decide to start travelling, not necessarily to see the world but simply to experience something new. But now that you’re here, what exactly have you found?

When you’re on the road, “home” becomes harder to hold. It might mean the house you grew up in, maybe the street. It might mean the coffee shop that was on your way to work where the servers know your name and your order. It might mean your partner, your parents, your friends. It might simply mean where you rest your head at night. This part is subjective – we all call many different places or things “home”. 

Whatever you decide home means to you, when you leave it behind things change. The comfort fades as soon as you step out that bubble, and the longer you’re gone the more you start to miss it. But what are you really missing? If you were to ask what home means to me I’d say it’s where I live, the safe space I go at the end of the working day, where I sleep and eat, where I lounge and where I love. So, when I leave that behind, my new place of residence should become my new home, right? 

Then, what am I missing? 

Homesickness has a sneaky way about it. Creeping in at the edges and hitting you in those quiet moments in between, when life is less exciting and you can finally fulfil its demand for attention. Not just when you’re crying at airports or staring at old photographs, it’ll hit you when you’re shopping and see something your friend would love. It’ll hit you when someone tells you a joke that you’ve heard from your dad a million times before. It’ll hit you when you’re in a room full of strangers but long for one person to really see you. When you stop moving long enough to notice the ache.

“The strange part of adulthood that no one talks about is we’re all homesick for a time that no longer exists, and that we’ll never be able to visit again.” 

~ Anon

So, we adapt. We seek out the things that remind us of a time that once was:

• English breakfast tea like my grandma drinks
• A bike to ride like I used to for work
• The playlist I made for when I go running 
• A roast every Sunday because that part of my culture is now built into my bones

Some will ease that ache while others may remind you of its insistent presence. Or maybe what you’re feeling isn’t homesickness at all. Maybe you’ve already begun forming a new home in the little things you’re doing right now.

I think it’s a myth that “home” has to be one fixed place. I’ve left pieces of myself in each “home” I’ve had, and have evolved into another version of me as I’ve moved on to the next. Those past lives are just that – past lives. Sometimes you can revisit the memories of them, like when you go back to your parent’s house or return to the town you grew up in. This is what we call nostalgia. As you grow and change, your “home” must change with you, so it becomes this portable thing that you create wherever you are, and carry in your suitcase as an unknown passenger. 

Travel doesn’t erase homesickness though. No matter how long you’ve dreamt of this current destination, finally making it there wont cancel out the longing to find “home” again. You won’t always notice it. But remember that both can coexist. The joy of living in this new exciting place and the itch to be reunited with your comfort zone will often have little battles between themselves and you must let them. With time you’ll be able to reframe your mindset to realise that home is not a place but a feeling. 

Once you realise this you’ll start asking yourself instead: “what feels like home here?” My commute to work used to be 30 seconds – I used to live above the bar I worked in – yet now I spend an hour on public transport to get to work. “Home” for me is watching Grey’s Anatomy on the train ride in and saving a snack for my journey back. These little things are, in a way, an act of self love, little reminders that comfort can be given to yourself. Home is a feeling only you can determine for yourself. 

Let these new experiences help build on it too. What felt like home at 8 years old would’ve changed at 18, and probably again at 28, and all throughout your life. Let “home” be a fluid concept that moulds itself to suit the life you’re building now. Whether that’s continuously on the road, or only moving every 6 months or maybe you’re planning to stay here for a lot further ahead than you can think into. You might just discover something new that feels more like “home” than any other home you’ve had. That possibility alone is one of the wonders of travelling. 

Home isn’t where the heart is, nor is it one fixed place or thing. That walk you took to the train station yesterday that is slowly becoming muscle memory is something you’ll miss someday in the future. As is the smell of your laundry detergent, your local takeaway favourite, how the air feels before a storm or the way your key fits in the lock. When you think of what “home” is at any one point in your life, it’s all these little everyday feelings that make up that image in your mind – whether you consciously think about it or not. 

Start paying attention to the details because that’s when the ache of homesickness shifts. It may never vanish, but will slowly soften. Learn to stop chasing a past version of home and start noticing the one that’s flourishing beneath your feet. 

Keep on wandering…

Thank you for reading! This essay is a little piece of my heart and if it resonated with you please let me know. I love to hear what my readers think 🙂

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