I had not seen my parents in three years.
Three whole years.
Phone calls were there.
Prayers were there.
Checking up on each other was there.
But somehow, none of those things fully prepare you for physically seeing your parents again after such a long time apart.
Nobody really talks about that moment.
The moment they stand in front of you again and suddenly all the years in between disappear for a second.
When my mom saw me, she shouted, “Jesus Christ!”
The shock on her face was so real that all of us just started laughing.
My sister even said, “Let me call your number and make sure it’s really you.”
And honestly, even I could not fully believe I was finally there again.
Home.
There is something deeply healing about parental affection when you have been away from it for a long time.
A hug from your parents as an adult feels different.
When you’re younger, you almost take those things for granted because you see them every day. But after spending years outside navigating life, carrying responsibilities, surviving stress, dealing with disappointments, making hard decisions and constantly trying to stay strong, being held by your parents again can touch something inside you emotionally.
Something very deep.
I do not even know how to explain it properly, but throughout that trip, I felt this strange softness settle inside me.
Like my body could finally rest a little.
Like my nervous system finally remembered what safety felt like.
And it wasn’t only in the hugs.
It was in the little things too.
Sitting together and talking.
Laughing randomly.
Hearing my parents’ voices from another room.
Taking pictures together.
Seeing my grandma again and listening to her pray for me.
Going to church with my family.
Eating fresh food every day.
Just existing around people who have known me my entire life.
There is a version of you that only exists around family.
A softer version.
A more rested version.
A version that does not have to explain itself too much.
And honestly, I think adulthood makes many people forget what it feels like to simply be somebody’s child again.
Outside, you are constantly thinking.
Constantly planning.
Constantly carrying things.
But at home, somebody is asking if you have eaten.
Somebody is waiting for you before morning devotion starts.
Somebody is already considering your comfort before you even ask.
And maybe that is why the trip meant so much to me.
It reminded me that love is not always loud.
Sometimes it is your mother shouting “Jesus Christ!” because she cannot believe you are standing in front of her.
Sometimes it is your father quietly making sure you are comfortable.
Sometimes it is laughter in the sitting room.
Sometimes it is simply being welcomed home after a long time away.
I came back from that trip feeling emotionally full in a way I had not felt in a very long time.
And I truly do not think people talk enough about how healing that kind of love can be.
