When was the last time you missed home?

Have you ever found yourself missing something as simple as waking up in the same room you spent half of your life in—the same room that quietly watched you grow from childhood into your teenage years? A room that once held your smallest worries and your biggest dreams.

These are the kinds of details that feel small… until you are far away from them.

Have you missed the dining table where you once ate alone at times, and with your family at others? A table that has witnessed countless moments—ordinary meals, celebrations, arguments, laughter, silence, and everything in between. A simple piece of furniture, yet it somehow carried so many memories.

How about the sofa where you used to lie down, fit yourself into its corners, and watch your favorite anime or movie? The same sofa where you eventually fell asleep without meaning to, only to wake up later still hearing the sounds from the screen. That sofa quietly held your comfort, your imagination, and even your dreams.

Do you remember the garden you used to play in as a child? The small space where you once planted things with hope, even if you didn’t fully understand patience yet. How about the old mango tree you used to climb—the one that gave you fruit when it was ripe, or shade when the sun was too hot? To you back then, it was shelter, adventure, and freedom all at once.

And the river you used to bathe in after pretending to take an afternoon nap—do you still remember that small escape? That quiet rebellion of slipping away while your mom was sleeping, thinking no one noticed… even though somehow, she probably did.

Do these memories still feel alive to you?

How does the place you once called home change over time? Do you still hear echoes of shouting, laughter, and tears that once filled those spaces? Can you still remember friends daydreaming together, pretending to be in different careers, acting out futures that felt so far away yet so exciting? Do you still think of them? Or have time and distance softened them into fading outlines?

And more importantly… do you still remember yourself?

Do you remember the version of you who lived there before everything became complicated? Before responsibilities, expectations, and survival became daily life? Do you ever ask yourself if you became what you once dreamed of becoming as a child—when your dreams were simple, honest, and untouched by reality?

There was a change after being away from home.

After everything that has happened, I’ve been living abroad for three years. Even though I go home every year for vacation, and I am technically only away for about eleven months at a time, it still feels different.

Life has a way of taking so much from you when you are constantly trying to survive—constantly meeting the demands of work, family, and society. There is always something happening, something required, something that needs to be done. And in the middle of it all, you begin to live just to keep up… just to make sure time does not pass you by unnoticed.

Everything becomes fast. Too fast. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and suddenly you realize you’ve been moving without truly feeling your life. You end up living inside a system—wake up, work, rest a little, repeat. Life becomes structured, almost mechanical.

But even within that structure, the feeling changes depending on where you are.

This year, however, felt different. It felt special in a way that is hard to explain. I had more time for myself, and more time for my family. I was able to relive parts of the life I have known for 33 years. Simple things suddenly felt meaningful again.

Waking up late without rushing into responsibilities felt like a luxury. Drinking my morning coffee slowly, without pressure, felt grounding. Checking on my dogs and seeing their familiar presence brought a kind of comfort that is hard to describe. Playing mobile games without guilt, eating breakfast at my own pace, and then slowly starting work—these small routines brought life back into something familiar.

Life, in that moment, felt like a system again—but a softer one. A more human one.

It was still simple and repetitive, but it felt lighter, more personal, more like home.

And because of that, I realized something honestly—I miss the life I left when I went abroad.

I miss the slow, laid-back life in the province. I miss days that move gently, where time feels longer and less pressured. There is still responsibility, yes, but it is different. It is pressure that allows you to breathe while you work—not pressure that feels like it is tightening around your chest.

But at the same time, I understand that life is a challenge. And in some way, I have grown because of it. I have lived on both ends of a spectrum—the duality of life. And that, I think, is a privilege not everyone gets. To experience both rhythms, both versions of living, gives a kind of perspective you cannot learn any other way.

I miss home when I am home. And when I am far away, I am carried by a world that moves too quickly. There is never enough time—for work, for rest, or for yourself. In those moments, I remember everything small about home. I remember where I grew up. I remember the playgrounds, the trees, the quiet spaces that never changed even when I did.

Home always brings me back to my old self. It reminds me of youth, of simplicity, of a time when life felt lighter. It reminds me of who I was before the world started asking for more. Before everything became heavy.

I think everyone should go back home when they can—when time allows it, when the opportunity is there. Because missing home is not something we think about every day. Life keeps us busy. We live different lives away from it, away from our old selves.

But sometimes, that old self holds the answers we are searching for now. Sometimes, clarity is found in the simplest version of who we once were.

Missing home is not just about a place. It is about reconnecting with a part of yourself that never really left. It is still there, quietly waiting in your memory.

The world changes us in many ways. It has changed me too. People say I look different now—shaped by time, distance, and experience. I have met many people and lived many versions of life.

But underneath all of it…

I am still me.

And no matter how far I go, no matter how much time passes, I will always miss home.