Homesick

This is the most obvious form. It’s the ache for people who know your history without you having to explain it. In a new place, you are a blank slate; at home, you are a rich narrative.

Eventually, you will go back to your original home. You will hug your parents in the kitchen. The dog will be older. The rug will be different. And you will realize that you are a visitor now. That childhood room is a museum of who you were. Homesick