I left Lebanon as soon as I completed my university studies, and since then, the distance between us has only grown. With time, the memories blur, like images once sharp now softened by the weight of years. At times, I wonder where home truly is, only to be met with silence. The idea of home becomes something fluid, intangible, shifting with each new place I step into. Is it a physical space, or does it live in the sensations, the echoes of what once was? I find myself searching, retracing my steps in memories, yet the answers remain elusive.
And when I do remember, it is never the big moments that come back to me, but the smallest details, fragments of a childhood that defined home in ways I never realized then. The scent of jasmine necklaces hanging from our necks after we labored to make them in the garden. The rough bark of the Akkadinyi tree. The strange comfort of the damp moss on the rocks after the rain. The way the light shimmered through seawater when I looked up from underwater. The smell of my swimsuit, packed away all winter, carrying with it the salty breath of summers past. The warmth of pancakes cooked by my mother. The crisp snap of volcanic stones we struck together to make fire. These are the moments that tether me to a place I once called home, even as it drifts further into the haze of time.
So perhaps home is not a fixed location, but rather, a constellation of feelings, sensations, and fleeting connections. It is a collection of stories woven into the fabric of who we are, carried with us no matter how far we roam. It is the smell of first rain, the taste of tiny strawberries from my mother’s garden, the jump rope poised in the air before the game begins. It is not the place I left behind, but the essence of what made it mine. And maybe, just maybe, home is something I can never truly lose—because it has always lived within me.
19 responses to “The Fading Lines of Home”
Home for exiles takes multiple forms. A distant culture might fell like home for a few days… (Just came back from 3 weeks in Asia. Some moments felt like home. Briefly)
Then one settles in a strange land. Learns the local codes. Becomes comfortable. Then with time, the “old home” comes back to mind. With a mix of familiarity -details- and growing rift or distance…
France will always be my home, but the distance is growing every year…
C’est comme ça.
Very well put. It resonates with me. Thank you
Toujours un plaisir…
So well written
Thank you 🙏🏻
It was a pleasure having you in our family for a brief moment in time. We were all made richer by the experience of meeting and interacting with you and your friends and family. And home…home is where the heart is.
🙏🏻❤️
When you mention these lovely tidbits of your life and building blocks of your identity that you have preciously stored in your heart and soul , what feelings come over you Mimo ?
Warmth tinged with melancholy… thank you for asking 😊🙏🏻
This is so beautiful dear Mimo!
Home for me are the places where I feel love, joy, where memories have been made. This can be different places, they are changing and for me it’s definitely more then one place. I think you’re so right: home is a collection of feelings and stories!
Thank you dear Astrid. We humans seem so in tune with our sense perception…
Really beautifully written reflections on what home may mean and the many layers it encompasses. Makes one wonder about home in the future.
Yes and I wonder why we need to feel this longing for home.
Waawww Soo beautiful!!!
So empowering as well !!
Reflecting a fulfilled strongly balanced personality in whoever Mimo is .
Takes your breath away
Liberates you from the torturing nostalgia
Of your mother country.the constant yearning for the “homecoming”….
Simply lovely !!! Resonating in me!!!
THANK YOU for sharing !!!
Thank you so much for your lovely reflective words! So Happy to read them.
Home is memories of childhood; it is our family, our experiences but also the place… The land calls us. There is a saying in Spanish that says:” the ox is from where it grazes, the man from where he is born.” Of course, it has a rhythm in Spanish 😉 I hope that one day you can return home and it doesn’t disappoint you.
Oh thank you for this. Lovely.
I love it! Thank you Mimo 🙏 Your images and your words trigger beautiful feelings bringing the memories into the present. What a gift! Thank you !
Thank you so much 🙏🏻