Going home to what and who matter more

Going home each year is never just about the flights back, road trip, gifts, or family gatherings. It’s a moment to breathe deeper, to let go of the weight I’ve been carrying. 

It’s a major shift in perspective, a reminder of what my heart has always known: that beyond the daily rush of Medan, there are things that matter more that I should take care more and ones that I've been neglecting.

The rhythm of office life is relentless, always convincing me that what I do is significant, or at the very least, it will be, someday. In many ways, I am grateful. I take comfort in knowing I’m supporting my husband as we build a life for our family. Medan, despite its noise and chaos, offers a future for my child that my hometown simply cannot.

But then, I go home twice a year. And home is different. It is slower, softer. It is where life feels less like a battle and more like a gentle flow.