The Feeling of Home

For some odd reason, I used to think that since I only lived in Germany for three years, I was not qualified to call it home.?

I was born in Germany, and raised by German parents, almost all of my extended family lives in Germany and I’m pretty sure if I took one of those overpriced DNA tests, it would come back 100% German.?

So where does the issue arise?

Despite all of the facts listed above, whenever someone asks me where I am from, I undergo a mini, internal identity crisis. My mouth opens and I say New Jersey but if my heart could speak, it would scream in disbelief and utter disgust. I do not have a ‘New Jersian’ bone in my body, that is simply where my parents own a house and live due to my father’s profession.?

I have had endless internal battles about this silly little personal dilemma. Yes, I also ask myself why I overthink such a minor thing but I think it is rooted in the fear of dishonoring my heritage and my family. In parallel to that, I also have a fear of people not believing me that I am from Germany since I don’t have an accent but saying I am from New Jersey is simply a lie.?

I know this all sounds a little bit silly, but it is just one of those small, personal uncertainties that all of us face now and then. One day it hit me that home doesn’t necessarily have to be a place, it can be a feeling.?

To me, this is the feeling in my heart when I land in Frankfurt after an eight-hour flight. It’s the sleep deprivation of having slept maybe an hour on the plane but it doesn’t matter because I know I can buy a bag of real Haribo bears and a Kinder Surprise egg (the ones that are banned in the United States) at the airport which will serve as my breakfast of champions.?

This feeling is sitting in my bedroom in New Jersey and hearing my parents talk downstairs. It's the sounds of my Mimi’s (my grandma) laughter over the phone as I tell her stories about my life. It’s the pride I feel of getting the chance to boast about my favorite German food when someone asks me about it and I describe it in so much detail that I can almost taste it. It’s the familiarity of overhearing a German family talking in the grocery store in Chapel Hill.

This feeling is fighting to keep my eyes open on the hour-long train ride we take from the Frankfurt airport to the town where my grandparents live. This feeling is ringing the doorbell to my grandparents' apartment and hearing the familiar buzz of them opening the door. It’s the unexpected pinch I feel in my heart when I look at an old photo of me and my family.

I know these are moments and glimpses of my life that make other people feel nothing, but the feeling of home is a universal experience. The only difference is what triggers this feeling in everybody and how deeply you experience it.?

Home is a sense of comfort that seeps into your bones, a feeling of safety and belonging that envelops you as soon as you experience a glimpse of it. It's that comforting sense of familiarity and connection that can be found wherever you are, whether it's in the presence of a friend, walking down a familiar path, or simply in moments of peace and contentment. Home is where your heart feels at ease, even if it is just for one second.?

To me, Germany is home but it is not the place, it is the feeling.