Defining the word "Home"

Which place would you call home? Is it the place where you were born and raised, or the place where you live, dream, and build your future?

I’ve returned home almost every two years since moving to the USA. And every time I go back, I’m overwhelmed by mixed feelings.

For me, it’s a dilemma.

The longer I stay here, the more I build a new life. I have my family, house, friends, and work. Yet, when I return, nostalgia hits me hard. I yearn to revisit the places I once loved, reconnect with the people who shaped my life, and relive the small moments of joy I hold dear.

But each visit feels different as if the place is subtly pushing me away—further and further each time.

I was there last December, and the excitement of being around my mother, sisters, and cousins was overwhelming. I made a list of dishes I missed and couldn’t find here, along with another list of places I love visiting. But as I stepped onto the streets of Cairo, something felt… off.

Many buildings had been remodeled; countless bridges were flying over my head. Even the faces on the streets were unfamiliar.

I am a millennial, and I understand that today belongs to Gen Z and Gen Alpha. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been gone for millions of years and can no longer catch up with them.

I find myself searching for places that no longer exist, people who are no longer alive, and memories that are growing dim with time. I’ve come to realize that I’m not the same person who left years ago, and they are not the same people I left behind.

Nothing feels the same there, yet something is missing here. There’s a sense of belonging that never feels complete.

I’ve come to understand that home isn’t a single place. It’s a mixture of moments, people, and emotions that make me feel grounded. It’s the laughter of my kids as they play in the snow in our backyard here, just as much as it’s the sound of my cousins and sisters humming during a sleepover back there.

As an immigrant, I think this is something many of us experience. Our hearts shatter into pieces—we carry some with us while leaving others behind.

Now, it’s your turn to tell me: What does “home” mean to you? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Maybe together, we can compile an idea of what it truly means to belong. Post link on Substack account: https://substack.com/home/post/p-155370452

A night scene for the beautiful Nile River.