Can We Ever Truly Return Home Again?

From North Texas to Norway, deciphering the true essence of home

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

I’ve always been drawn back to the places where my name was, once upon a time, on the mailbox.

Uprooted from the expansive plains of North Texas and thrust into the winter-clad, forested terrains of South Eastern Norway at the tender age of twelve, I was left grappling with an unspoken void. This sudden transition from familiar flatlands to snow-kissed woodlands gave birth to a perpetual yearning for a feeling of ‘home.’

It’s almost as if I could touch and feel the places where I could reabsorb the joy experienced, mend old heartache and grief, and witness chapters of my story- it’s almost as if I keep trying to revisit these places; I could find pieces of myself left behind. Pieces I would very much like back.

Not that long ago, I flew back to Texas to visit my family. After landing, it only took a few days to feel that old familiar pull to revisit my childhood home- a ranch-style starter house in your typical DFW suburbia setting. I climbed into my dad’s pickup truck, drove twenty miles, and soon found myself turning onto that old familiar lane where I used to ride my bike until the street lights came on. I remember it as shady and sleepy, with trees lining the street on both sides, creating a…