Homecoming
As I sit here, in my homeland, my birthplace, Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, I’m going through my phone gallery folder, deleting images because my storage is full. I scroll all the way down to the oldest photos in my folder and begin deleting the ones that are already backed up and I no longer immediately need.
At some point, I come across images from November 2025. One particular image made me pause. It was an image of a short poem by Langston Hughes titled Homecoming.
I wasn’t necessarily the one arriving to this homecoming.
I was the one leaving…
I remember this particular image very well. I remember when it was taken, I remember the context of the image, I remember exactly what I was doing on this day, and I remember how it made me feel. I felt a similar feeling today, as I read the poem again. Just ten months ago and yet it seems like a lifetime. It FEELS like a lifetime.
I feel that I have lived many different lives since November 29, 2025.
A tear streamed down the right side of my cheek. I let it be. The left one followed.
I don’t necessarily know exactly what it is that I feel in this moment, but I will try my best to describe it.
I recognize, that I am not the same woman today that I was on that day. And yet I also feel that I have not arrived where I am meant to be. I have changed, and I acknowledge that. But in that same acknowledgment, I recognize that there is still so much left for me to discover about myself.
I wasn’t necessarily the one arriving to this homecoming. I was the one leaving. And in a way, I am still leaving. Still leaving parts of me that no longer serve me. Still leaving places and people that I have outgrown. And while on this journey, I am still leaving places I have arrived at, when their purpose in my life have been fulfilled.
I think that’s why I feel emotional. Because I feel I am on a train, pausing at each stop, getting off, and jumping back on to continue the journey. When will I reach the last stop on the line?
I do not know.
But maybe homecoming isn’t about reaching the last stop. Maybe it’s about returning to myself, over and over again. Honoring myself by choosing the things that feel rooted in love. Making space for therapy, yoga, meditation, and the things I deeply care about. Listening to my heart. Being honest with myself without judgment. Allowing myself to feel my emotions instead of running away from them. Accepting that I don’t have all the answers, and that I don’t need to know everything.
Trusting that I am supported by God, the universe, my spirit guides, and my ancestors.
I know nothing, yet, with tears in my eyes, I am ready for everything.
