I myself have been a migrant and have had the opportunity to feel the immense joy upon returning to my homeland, but also the bitterness of parting from loved ones when leaving again.

That is why I can confidently say: only one who has been a migrant can truly understand the joy of the migrant when entering their birthplace, returning to their home, and at the moment of the first embrace with their loved ones.

This is not an ordinary joy. It is a feeling that gathers all the days spent abroad, all the sleepless nights, hard working hours, silent worries, and hidden tears. It is a joy that starts long before the journey — with counting the days, preparing the suitcases, and thinking: "Just a little more, then home."

When the migrant crosses the border of their homeland, something inside them changes. The road becomes more familiar, the mountains closer, the air different. And when the sign with the name of the birthplace appears, the heart begins to beat stronger. Memories of childhood, old friendships, neighborhood streets, and all those days when the home was the entire world return in an instant.

No matter how accepted one has been abroad, they have remained a stranger among strangers. Perhaps they built a house, created a family, and secured a better life, but the native home remains the place where they don't have to explain who they are and where they come from. There every street recognizes their step, and every corner holds a part of their past.

The strongest moment is the first embrace.

In the mother's embrace, all distances disappear. In the father's gaze are pride, care, and long waiting. In the smiles of children, brothers, sisters, and loved ones, all the warmth missing during months of separation is felt.

Then the migrant becomes again who they were before leaving — someone's child, brother, sister, friend, and neighbor. In those moments, earned money, the car they arrived with, or gifts they brought are not important. Only closeness matters. It matters that they are again among their own.

The migrant’s bread has never been easy. Behind a better life often stand loneliness, hard work, sacrifices, and missed family moments. The migrant does not leave their homeland because they ceased to love it, but because life pushed them to seek their happiness and existence far from it.

That is why their return is more than a rest. It is a spiritual return to oneself. An attempt in a few short days to make up for the time taken by distance, to visit loved ones, renew old friendships, and once again feel they belong somewhere with their whole being.

Home is not just the house where we were born. Home is the place where our arrival brings joy to someone, where someone waits for us, and where the first embrace wipes away all the kilometers of separation.

✍️ Jakub Kazimoski