At first it’s excitement. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamt about. The new life, new people, new job. You wake up thinking you’re the luckiest person alive, put on your new outfit, slip into your shoes and head out for that morning coffee before work. Life is great.
Then the first heartache comes, you miss your mom’s birthday. But it’s nothing, you tell yourself. You’ll visit her next year, right? Life is just so busy at the moment, and tickets were so expensive. It’s okay, next year for sure.
You call her to congratulate, but she doesn’t pick up. Of course, she’s celebrating, no worries, you’ll call her later. A few hours later your phone rings, it’s your mom. She’s happy, surrounded by people she loves. She misses you, of course, but she understands and hopes to see you next year. You hang up, but the guilt lingers.
That’s when you realize something no one warns you about – life at home doesn’t stop when you leave.
The birthdays keep coming. Your friends, your grandma’s and grandpa’s, your cousins, aunts and uncles. You scroll through Facebook and Instagram watching the photos of their joy. Life hasn’t paused for them. They’re still celebrating, laughing, making new memories, while you’re all alone in the city you now call home. It hurts, you’re not really alone, but the loneliness cuts deeper than any knife.
And then there’s your own birthday. Since the move it’s been quiet, no candles blown out with family, no hugs or laughter echoing from your hometown friends. You celebrate it in your apartment alone, maybe a newly made friend drops by, but it’s different. The joy is muted, the traditions lost and you feel absence of all the little things you once knew. Even your favorite cake is missing, because the only place you can get it is back home.
Then it’s Christmas. Where did the time go? You’re in your apartment with a friend. It’s better than nothing, but still Christmas has always been family. You miss your grandmother’s cooking, your mother’s warm hugs, your siblings silly arguments, your cousins who shared your childhood. You try to recreate the feeling but it falls flat. And then it hits you. The magic was never the tree or the lights. It was always the people by your side.
A year has passed, since you moved. You know your favorite bakery now, the metro lines by heart, the hidden shortcuts through the city. You’ve even met someone. Life feels good again. But then, your mom’s birthday sneaks up on you. Damn, already? You check flights, but the prices are out of reach. Another call will have to do.
She understands. She always understands. You talk for an hour, heart to heart. You miss her, you miss all the little things, everything you once took for granted. In that moment you decide, you’ll by the tickets. No more waiting.
The morning of your flight arrives. Tickets in one hand and your boyfriend holding the other hand. You’re finally going home. Your family gets to meet the person who has been there for you all this time. For a while, life feels normal. Whole again.
You spend your days re-exploring the city you grew up in. Your mom is by your side, your siblings clinging to you. You missed this, you really missed it. It’s crazy how ordinary it once felt. Now these are the moments you cherish the most.
But the week passes too quickly and soon your back at the airport, holding back tears. Why is it suddenly so hard to leave? A tear falls on your boyfriend’s shoulder. At least he’s there for you. He reminds you they are only a short flight away. You nod, but the pain stays.
An then life takes over again and soon enough you’re back into your routine. Another round of birthdays, your best friend has a baby, your sister graduates. You’ve missed it all. You return for a visit again. For those two weeks life seems complete, but the moment you step back onto the plane, the old ache returns. Agony in your mind, questioning all your choices again.
Years pass. You travel back and forth. You’ve memorized the best airport cafés, the quietest gates, the rhythm of departure and arrival. The mix of excitement and heartbreak. You call it now the airport feeling.
And still you keep building your life. You have friends now. A husband. A home. The ache of distanced never fully goes away but you realize something – home isn’t just a place, it’s a feeling. Belonging. And you belong in both worlds.
The Truth No One Talks About
No one tells you how heavy it feels, juggling two lives, two homes, two versions of yourself. You’re happy and proud of the life you’ve built abroad, yet you cry into your pillow on days when the distance feels unbearable. You scroll through photos of the life you left behind, torn between joy for the people you love and the sting of missing it all. You call and text and trying to keep in touch as much as possible, but it’s never the same. You chose this life. You can go weeks feeling fine, happy even. But then, out of nowhere the weight returns and it feels unbearable again. You’re miserable. Your friends are having fun without you. How dare they! No, that’s not right… It’s you who moved. So you collect yourself, make breakfast and… overthink it all. It was your decision after all.
Why does it have to be so hard? How come other people don’t feel what you feel?
But wait… Don’t they?
Within Maps 