2025/Nami-

Home is not just where you live and stay, it is an extension of your life. Home is where you make memories whether it be good or bad. The walls that make what is home to me are the only walls that have seen me grow up over many years.

Some people may call a home the place you go back to every day, but a home is more than that. A home to me is the place that I feel the most relaxed in, the place that fills my mind with memories. The small house located in a little town in Japan is home to me. Although I don’t live there, the moment I step past the front door I feel a sense of nostalgia. Walking onto the floorboards of that house makes me think of the times I walked on that floor coming home from the local elementary school. Around seven in the morning, walking outside with my little yellow hat and meeting up with my group to go to school. I find these memories wandering into my mind every time I pass the cracked pavement of the sidewalks near the house. Going to the local elementary school on the hot summer days saturates a large part of my childhood memories, and this house only echoes these recollections.

Moving from place to place, going from one state to another, and even to another country, I’ve lived in more than five houses. With each house that came grew a connection, but these would eventually be lost as I put the definition of home to a new place. This cycle repeats itself with every destination that comes, but the bond I felt with my grandparents' house only grew thicker. Summer always signified the moving season, packing up all my belongings and wondering if I would miss this location in my next. But I also waited for summer to go to Japan. Going to Japan over the summer was like a bridge, missing the memories I made on the left side and wondering what was beyond the trees on the right. Staying at my grandparent's house provided reassurance to me that I would always have a house to return to and watch seemingly get smaller but in reality, I was only growing up.

After moving to Korea, going to Japan became a mere two-hour flight compared to the eight to twelve-hour flights from many of the previous places I’ve lived. This short flight convinced my family to go several more times than usual. It was odd to go to my grandparents' house when there were no leaves on the trees, no cicadas ringing, and how I still had assignments to turn in and tests to study for. After staying there multiple times across the school year, going to Mom’s hometown became more like a rest stop or a checkpoint. I look forward to staying at my grandparents’ house because many of my worries are left behind in the house I live in.

Going home doesn't have to mean going back to the structure you go to every day, coming back from school or the mall. It can mean going back to the place that is filled with memories of your childhood and the place that feels like the warmest hug out of all.