We recently got back from visiting our family in India. It was a whirlwind 3 and a half weeks- including a holiday, a family wedding, meeting new members of the family, reconnecting with the old ones, friends, food, and making and reliving memories. To sum it up, it was perfect (well, perfect except the part where my 2 year old refused to eat anything. But that’s a post for another day).
And then it was over and we came back. I was glad to be back- HOME. And that’s what this post is about. I was surprised to think of this as home and sort of relieved to be back. In 10 years of being an expat, this is the first time this has happened. Every other trip has ended with a sense of longing, of wanting just one more day…a few more hours even. But this trip…it was…different. I was actually content. While I was there, I was perfectly relaxed and even dreamed up a scenario of how we would move back, be with family and all things familiar and live happily ever after. But as soon as we entered the doorstep of our house, a sense of belonging swept in…as opposed to loneliness, like after previous trips back to the homeland.
I feel somewhat guilty feeling this way. After all being ‘back home’ is a dream every expat dreams, right? At least I did and maybe still do to some extent. But that’s probably what that is- a dream. I don’t want my family to know I feel this way (I’m not sure how they would feel about it- I do love them and would love to drag the 2 continents closer!), to be honest, it’s taken some time for me to accept this feeling myself.
I guess it’s time to get one of those ‘Home Means Nevada’ shirts!