This was a trip that had me all in my feels. It was the first time I had seen my best friend in
S E V E N years, and the first time my husband was meeting my best friend. It's been 6 months, but here's a story.
🦙
Sometime between the happy tears about finally getting together and the sweaty climb to the top of this mountain, we spent a night eating hot cheetos and talking about how big the world is. 🦙
I was in this beautiful new country, with my two favorite people, discussing the immigrations that brought us to the states from far corners of the world, and the emigration that took one of us away again.
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The immigrant story is a common one, and what was common between our stories was a struggle to find a home, a place where we felt we belonged completely. All three of us have felt like an “other” at least one time or another in all the places that we are supposed to be at home. Too brown. Too much Nose. Too much of one thing, not enough of another. The feeling that we had to be better at being American to be accepted, be a better whatever to show that we weren't too American.
🦙
I was so happy and so comfortable on this adventure, so far from everything I knew, that
I just had to realize that maybe home is not a place in a country, or a culture that never really feels like your own. Maybe home is just where you’re with the people you love and who love you. Whatever it is, these two people are definitely it for me.
🦙
@justineabigail explores the concept of home on @hownottotravellikeabasicbitch, and @livinghyphen that helped me start to sort through what "living in the hyphen of your identity" means for me. If you want to read her excellent piece too, the link is in my bio.
#wocwhotravel
