Homecoming part 5: the after
Home is wherever we allow ourselves to belong.
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I write about many things personal: growing up in China and finding home in the U.S., the bittersweetness of a life between two cultures, and the stories that gave me strength along the way, from books, films, and real life. Paid subscribers make writing possible and receive occasional essays that explore topics that are deeply personal to me.
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This is Part 5 and the final part of my Homecoming series where I write about my first trip back to Fuzhou, China in six years.
You can find Parts 1 through 4 here:
I’ve written about the food, the clothes, and the wedding, but I struggled to find the right words to describe how I felt during this trip.
Now I think it’s simply nice. It’s so nice to be home.
It’s warmth, safety, letting our guard down, carefree moments, being cared for, love, and almost feeling like a kid again. It’s remembering what it’s like to be surrounded by people who are related to me, and rediscovering how similar we are. We fidget the same way, argue with the same irritatingly funny logic, and are equally terrible at navigation. I see so much of myself in them: the good and the bad.
I was so deprived of being around family and I didn’t know.
After graduate school, I moved to Phoenix, Arizona, for my first real job and shared an apartment with a housemate. I was proud of the little space I had created, but my mom called it “the dorm.”
“Are you back to your dorm yet?” she'd ask.
It irritated me and saddened me at the time.
I was trying to convince myself this was home so that I wouldn’t feel like someone thousands of miles away from home, but to her, I would always belong to where she raised me. I suspect she didn’t want to admit I had left for good.
Once, I told her that my apartment wasn’t a dorm - I wasn’t a student anymore. It’s my home now and will be for the foreseeable future. After that, she never used that d-word again.
For a long time, I believed I had to choose one place to call home. If I wanted to feel at home here, I thought I had to leave my old one behind. I told myself that it was a decision I had to make.
Returning to Fuzhou reminded me that home isn’t just a physical space. It’s a feeling of warmth that we carry with us that can span continents, time zones, and memories. I’ve realized that I could call more than one place home, even if they’re oceans apart. As Chef Edward Lee has said, “Home is a state of mind.“
The first week back in California, my husband and I reminisced about our trip and struggled to readjust to life here.
I kept asking myself why I couldn’t just walk everywhere.
Why do I need to wait two days for my Asian groceries to be delivered?
Why are the subways always late?
Why do I have to pay $20 for a bowl of bland noodles in Palo Alto?
Why do we have to wait for another year to visit Fuzhou?
These questions swirled in my mind until the flood of unread emails and the mundane chores overtook my life.
We're settling back into the rhythm of life in California. My husband is training for a half marathon across the Golden Gate Bridge next month, while I’ve returned to my weekly routine of workout classes, reading, and writing.
This past weekend, we took a trip up north to Lassen Volcanic National Park. The vibrant landscapes—stark mountains, steaming fumaroles, and glacier-fed lakes—left me in awe. I felt alive and was reminded of the many reasons we call California home.
As I stood by the glacier lakes, surrounded by California’s rugged beauty, I realized home isn’t just a physical place—it’s also found in the moments that make us feel connected, grounded, and alive. Whether in the mountains of Lassen or the familiar streets of Fuzhou, home is wherever we allow ourselves to belong.
Thank you to everyone who has read and commented throughout this series. Sometimes, it’s easy to feel isolated in our experiences, but conversations with all of you made me feel understood and less alone. Some of you mentioned that your families also took over wedding planning, while others shared your experiences living far away from home and balancing expectations from two cultures. I am deeply grateful for your time, attention, vulnerability, and willingness to share your lives with me.
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Home is where you are; it is also a feeling, a state of mind; it is a longing and a calling. Home is where you eventually want to return to, it is in your dream, your subconscious, and your blood. ❣️
Yes, home is a feeling. And that disorientation and longing when you come back from a trip as important as the one you had can be full of heartache. But we do eventually get over it, and appreciate where we are.