A Letter to the Ones Who Wonder

The Alex-2 under sail

To the footprints beside me,

You leave because something in you itches.

Because the walls feel smaller than they used to. Because the wind outside the window is carrying stories that aren’t yours yet.

So, you go.

Maybe it’s a plane slicing across the sky,

or a bus rattling through the night,

or just your feet moving forward,

one step, then another, until the ground changes to a new view.

At first, it’s awkward.

You fumble with words,

you walk too fast or too slow,

you forget that here, coffee is an hour long ritual, or that strangers meet your eyes and nod like they’ve known you forever.

But then you settle.

Not in the way of roots, but in the way of rivers,

finding the curves of a place, and letting it shape you, turn by turn until it spits you out onto a new river's bank.

You learn the shortcuts, the best street food stall,the way the air shifts before it rains.

You learn that kindness doesn’t always need language as it simply transends all.

There are moments

small ones, barely noticeable some would say, where you catch yourself breathing differently,

standing lighter, reaching higher,

Where you realize the person you were back home wouldn’t recognize you now.

You swim in oceans you’ve never seen before.

You watch the sun set in a colour that doesn’t exist in your memory.

You dance in a square with strangers whose names you’ll never know. And somehow, none of it is lost. It stays in your bones.

And then one day, you go back.

Except back isn’t really back anymore.

Because home is different now

or maybe just you are.

You look at the streets you once knew and hear the echo of every place you’ve been.

You thought you were just passing through the world. But it turns out,

the world has been passing through you too.

Sincerely,

E