February 5, 2026
Home Is Not a Place
I've lived in five cities in three years. Home, I've learned, is a feeling you carry with you.
I've lived in five cities in three years. Home, I've learned, is a feeling you carry with you.
Five cities. Three years. Eight apartments. Fourteen sets of "where should we get coffee around here?"
When people ask where I'm from, I've started saying "everywhere and nowhere," which sounds pretentious but is honestly the most accurate answer I have.
Moving this much teaches you that home isn't an address. It's not the apartment or the neighborhood or even the city. Home is the feeling of belonging, and you can build that anywhere — or lose it anywhere.
Home is my morning chai ritual, whether I'm making it in a kitchen in Bangalore or a hostel in Lisbon. It's the playlist I put on when I need to feel grounded. It's calling my sister and hearing her laugh. It's the way certain books feel like a place I can return to.
The hardest part of moving a lot isn't packing or logistics. It's the goodbyes. Every city has people you love, routines you cherish, a coffee shop where the barista knows your order. Leaving means starting from zero again.
But starting from zero is also a superpower. You learn to build connection quickly. To find your people. To make a new space yours. You learn that you are the constant — not the place.
I don't know where I'll live next year. But I know I'll be home.
— H ✦