I have started this post since yesterday, but decided to ponder on this idea a little bit before actually putting the word down.

The word Nostalgia I would like to use in this post refers to the state of being homesick. I particularly like this word because not only it bears the meaning of homesick, but also refers to an excessively sentimental yearning for return to some past period. The word nostalgia brings a much deeper meaning than the word “Homesick”.

I started to travel every summer since I turned 15 year old. It was a simple promise from my Father, he said that because he couldn’t keep the promise for me to study abroad, he will let me travel every year to explore the world instead. He told me that he’s so sorry for changing his mind but he couldn’t let me go. He’s gonna miss me so much. I think this was also the reason I couldn’t leave my mother’s house till Dad’s passed away.

Each and every I went away, getting on the plane, I was so happy. The sky got bluer, the air tasted like freedom. During these trips which range anywhere from 2 weeks to 8 months, I sometimes was asked if I was homesick. My answer was a simple No. On the opposite, whenever the time is nearer to the end, I always got depressed, so sad, so anxious. I would calm myself by thinking about my bedroom. I secretly wished to never go back.

These days, I began to understand why I got so attached to my bedroom and not my mother’s house. Because it was my sanctuary, it was where I could hide away from my mother’s yelling. It was where I could bury myself in books and studies. I could always make an excuse to study in the room, and I did study in order to ran away from mother.

I became so obsessed and attached with my bedroom that at times, I could not sleep well if it’s not my pillow and my blanket. When I was asked what I missed the most when traveling, my answer has always consistently been ” My bed“. I guessed I have developed the concept of “Safe Space” long before I realized. Dad was always far away from home, so I never actually miss him, I would like to stay as far as possible from my mother so missing her was not really a favorable thing, I didn’t have a particular attachment to my sister so I didn’t miss her as well. Instead of people, I developed emotional attachment with things and space.

That was me up until 2 years ago.

Things changed.

I began to feel belong, feel like I have a home when I moved into my first house in Hoi An, Vietnam. In that small town, I finally have a place that I want to come back too. I face with a total opposite experience. Instead of being sad, I felt a rush of excitement every time sitting on the plane back to Hoi An. I felt that I can’t wait to be back in order to just sit at the court yard, sip a sip of tea. Thor is lying under my feet, I would say to myself ” Wow ! It’s great to be home.” In this house, I felt that I have 100% sense of agency and power of choice. It was a short 3 months of pure happiness.

These days, when I was reminded of the word nostalgia, my memory will immediately bring me back to this home. In this case, the word nostalgia bears 2 meanings, I am homesick for this house, and I also yearn to return to this place.

Though I no longer have access to this home, I still drove by whenever I visit Hoi An. Because of this very first house, I understand what I was looking for in life. A simple house with minimal of stuff, a very big court yard so I can sit outdoor and have a cup of tea, comfortable bed, a dog maybe 2, and as equally important a partner who would enjoy the same thing as and with me.

I finished writing this post with a smile. Probably this is the first time I feel this sensation of lightness, the feeling of peace runs through my soul. I can hear my own steady breath, I can hear the quietness in the room. Most of my writings earlier tap into wounds, cuts and burns. This time, it taps into something else different, I wouldn’t call it happiness. It is Nostalgia.

Nostalgia is neither joy nor sadness. Nostalgia is nothing if not paradoxical. It’s a strange thing: the memory of a scene from the distant past, haunted by people who are no longer there, doing things that are no longer done in a world that no longer exists. Yet it all seems so vivid in our minds that we can still see the the sun shines through the window, the cool breeze in early summer. Sometimes the smell of freshly cut grass could already magically bring us straight back to that moment in time.