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Suddenly I saw an old woman selling homemade candies. I approached and asked if it wasn't Mrs. Ioana from whom I used to buy candies when I was a child. She turned around and told me that it is her daughter, but her mother often told her about a little girl who bought from her every day.

I boarded the plane with my heart pounding wildly. Through the window, I saw the clouds stretching out like a soft blanket, but my thoughts were elsewhere—on the streets of my childhood, the smell of pies from my grandmother’s kitchen, the laughter of old friends.

When we landed, the warm, familiar air hit me like an embrace. I stepped outside, and for the first time in twenty years, I heard my name called by a voice I never thought I’d hear again. I looked up and saw her.

Time had left its marks on her face, but the smile was the same. Mom.

As the plane landed, a strange mix of excitement and nerves filled my chest. I was finally back.
Stepping outside, the warm air carried familiar scents—street food, the salty breeze, a hint of flowers I hadn’t smelled in years. The city had changed, yet somehow, it hadn’t.I walked through my old neighborhood, past the playground where I once played, the corner store where I spent my allowance. Everything seemed smaller now.Then, I stood in front of my childhood home. The paint was peeling, the garden a little wild, but it was still home. My heart pounded as I knocked.
The door opened. A familiar face, older now, eyes widening in shock."You came back," they whispered.
I swallowed hard, smiling. "I never really left."

My feelings are so weird. Anxiety, pleasure and nostalgia. All together makes me feel so small and i can't wait to see my neighborhood. In this place i have lived as a child , I’ve played on the streets and made new friends. With them we've stayed out all the afternoon and playing football, hide and seek and laughing together. Maybe after 20 years we will meet again and talk about the good old days. I hope that they will be there and remember our friendship. I'm so happy that i have all these memories. I can’t wait to go back there.

It was hard decision to be back as I had decided many years ago not to be back for the safety reasons. By safety I mean psychological well-being. I guess that there are many people who would like to forget their childhood, their relatives, even the smell of the air of those times. I was one of them. The photos of my childhood have brought to my mind all these painful memories and unbearable feeling of being rejected, unwanted, excluded. And all of a sudden, this inner mess has disappeared. I am standing here with empty mind, without expectations and emotions. It is like a bless, like a compassionate hand has reached me to remind me that I am more than my memories, more than my feelings, even more than my thinking who I am. There is not this heaviness in my chest anymore. For the first time in 20 years! This is strange, really strange. I expected me to be crashed by the confrontation with my past. Nothing like that has happened. I decided to be back because someone told me the story about buddhis’ monks who once in a hundred years have the opportunity to be Enlighted if they dare to be closed in a magic room, which has the power of reading the strongest fears of the visitor and make an illusion of being in the circumstances which evoke these dreadful fears. It works. I am here, in this room, in this city, under this sky.

During the flight, my heart sank under the weight of all the emotions I was feeling. I had a major disagreement with my parents about my life choices the last time I was there. They never approved any of my preferences, and we haven't spoken since then. It's been 20 years already, and while I have no regrets about the path I chose, I can't help but wonder how much easier our relationship would have been if we'd all shared the same views. I suppose it's inevitable that following one's convictions sometimes means disappointing others.
That's just life, I guess. Suddenly I found myself at their door step. I entered my parents' house after two decades. They recognized me immediately, and our first reaction was a long, heartfelt embrace, as if we were trying to make up for all the hugs we'd missed over the years. Tears flowed as we embraced, a bittersweet mix of regret and happiness, but above all, forgiveness. We knew then that all misunderstandings were water under the bridge, that we had each other again, and that we would never waste another moment arguing.

It all had changed so much, I remembered it quieter, yet as I wandered through the familiar streets, I felt as if I had stepped into a dream, a memory hanged frozen in time. The old trees that adorned the sidewalks now whispered in the wind, as if they remembered the laughter of my younger self, who used to play and run beneath their branches with her friends.

I passed the old bookshop, its dusty windows shining with a golden glow as the sun settled, I could almost hear the rustling of pages, smell the characteristic scent of the books I used to love.

The path to my house seemed shorter than I remembered, yet my heart swelled with both joy and nostalgia. It was as if the world had held its breath, waiting for me to return. Would my room be the same as I left?

When I reached the doorstep, I paused, I was utterly nervous. The house looked just the same, wrapped in the golden light of an autumn evening, orange and red leaves welcoming me. A soft breeze carried the fresh smell of apple pie, I then knew, my mummy was waiting for my arrival, baking my favourite pastries. With trembling hands, I pushed the ring bell, and soon I found myself embraced in her longing, warm arms. "I missed you, my sweet girl". I couldn't stop my happy tears, "Me too mummy, me too".

Getting off the plane, I felt a mix of emotions. The city that saw me grow up seemed different, but it still had the same energy. The modern buildings had replaced old stores, and the streets were wider and noisier. Still, some places were the same, like the old café on the corner where I spent hours talking with my friends.
I walked to the house where I had lived. It looked a little worn out by time, but it was still the same. The air was filled with memories, and a nostalgic smile appeared on my face. I met with family members, and as we talked, laughed, and shared quiet moments, I realized that it wasn’t just the place that mattered, but the connections and memories built over time.
Even after all these years, part of me had stayed here, as if I had never left.

I was overwhelmed by my feelings and started crying right there on the street. Thoughts and emotions of my past life run threw my head, so I had to call my mum immediately. Talking with her was a blessing and now I can't wait to go home and see everybody. My family, my dog, my friends and even the annoying neighbours, who had loud music running the whole night.
This reminds me of, how fast the time is passing and that we should enjoy every minute in it. Not arguing with people about not important, little things, you have forgotten the next days. Life is short, so spend time with your loved people, travel the world, gain experiences and don't miss a chance!

"As I was walking on a bustling city street, I looked down at my phone and scrolled through photos of my childhood. I used to live 15.000 kilometres from here, and today I'm travelling back 'home' for the first time in 20 years..." I do not know if my home is even the same as it used to be. Are my parents even alive? Will they recognise me? It was just a long time ago when I was kidnapped and trained to become a super soldier. I can barely recall that day (or was it at night?) Until recently I used to live in a lie that I was made in a laboratory. That I was made to take lives and I believed it with no hesitation with no doubt. I watch my reflection and see that I still kind of look like a killer. Most people probably do not see it. With my muscles, few scars and eyes I probably actually look more like that I came from a war recently. That thought brings a slight smile to my face. It is fascinating how that story came to an end and how I found out the truth. Just some of the random events happened to turn out in my favour. You may call it luck.

I stopped at a photo in my gallery. It showed a writing on the wall: 'I swear, one day I'm gonna leave this town.' A pinch in my heart sent memories flashing before my eyes. I wondered if it was still there, whether they had teared down the wall. Walking through the city as a tourist in my youth, recalling familiar places and feeling nostalgic, I soon found the spot. It was still there—painted over and faded, but recognizable. This was where it all began, the crossroads where I pondered my future and past and made my move.

But did it really pay off?

As I boarded the plane, I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of twenty years settle in my chest. The island I left behind was one of empty stomachs and dreams that seemed too distant to grasp. Yet, I survived. More than that, I thrived.

Scrolling through my childhood photos, I no longer saw just hardship. I saw resilience. I saw the hands that held me up when I was too tired to stand: My parents, who sacrificed everything to give me a chance; my friends and my teachers, who saw my potential when I doubted myself. Each one of them shaped me, lifted me, and carried me to where I am today.

I don’t want to just visit home. I want to give back. I want to be the mentor that I was lucky enough to have. I want to be the teacher who tells a struggling child that they are capable of more than they imagine. I want to remind them that their circumstances do not define them, that their dreams are valid, and that they, too, can rise above.

As the plane took off, I looked out the window, my heart full. I left that place as a child with nothing but hope. Today, I return as someone ready to give hope to others.

This contest is now closed. Thanks to all who participated and sent in their lovely stories! I'll inform you when the raffle to choose the winner is shortly!

Warmly,

Marieke, OLS Community Manager - English