Hearts Series: Memoir of a Foreign Heart

I once was told that home is where our heart is. As I grew up surrounded by family and the nuances of my own culture, I have always had the feeling that something was missing. That something was a void that, later on, I would fill with travels and the possibility of finding unknown places on Earth.

When a foreigner, who I would define here as someone in the search of a home that makes sense in their heart, travels abroad, they often know that the home they are looking for is an ongoing process that has been built inside them even before the journey itself. The search for what makes sense in life begins earlier, prematurely, in the willingness of embarking upon such endeavors. 

We must explain some myths (first) to understand the heart of a foreigner. Such as, when one ventures in an overseas land, their love for their motherland is still there and, more often than ever, it will always be. What we are looking for is a different reality, not purely a different citizenship. The soul of a foreigner will always rest on the core of their homeland. They usually transport it with them, no matter where they go. It is an accent, their home cuisine and, sometimes, their heritage. No wonder why so many cultures make a home, and room, for their entire culture. It is like bringing a small portion of their country in the suitcase.

Sometimes, we love the house we were born in, but we have to change its structure to keep the house from falling over our heads.

I came overseas because my heart felt very foreign in the nest I was constituted in. However, I would learn later in life that my heart was foreign to the land I grew up in because I was simultaneously foreign to that land as well. Sometimes, we grow outside the nest that nurtured us to understand that the nest will always be there, whenever we feel like coming back. And that itself shifts the perspective of living abroad. It is usually a choice. And when we’re not the ones making that choice, life will make them for us, and we will be just along for the ride.

The foreigner, outside their homeland, chooses to relearn everything in a nest that is, not yet, familiar to them. Isn’t it beautiful when we learn that restart is more than a verb, it is a way of life? 

The heart of a foreigner is always in a restless state because, deep down inside, their soul doesn't belong anywhere. The soul of a foreigner is constantly searching for something.