When Longing Becomes Language
Written By Ritika Sharma
Thumbnail and Banner Photo by MICHAEL CHIARA on Unsplash
The Balancing Act of Living Far from Home
Living far from home as an international student often feels like you're existing between two worlds: the one that shaped you and the one that's shaping you now. The transition brings the excitement of new opportunities, but beneath that excitement, there's an ache that words rarely capture. It's the longing for the sound of familiar voices, for the smell of home-cooked food coming from a kitchen you know by heart, or simply for the comfort of someone knocking on your door for no reason at all. Distance changes how we value what's around us. Objects, gestures, and even silences take on new meaning. What once went unnoticed becomes precious. This change isn't just emotional; it shows a universal human tendency where we give more meaning to things we can't easily have. We treasure what has become hard to reach. We treasure what has become inaccessible.
The Box That Carried Love Across Miles
This shift in perception, this new weight given to ordinary things, showed itself really clearly to me when my friend received a large brown box from her family abroad. The box didn't contain anything fancy, just a worn jacket, some local snacks, and a few dried fruits, but when it arrived, it carried so much emotional weight. Each item looked ordinary but held an entire world of memories and affection. The jacket that she used to wear casually during her daily routines back home now brought back memories of concerts, rainy walks, and long conversations from another life.
The box was more than just care; it was love that survives any distance. When people can't be physically present anymore, love finds new forms. You see it in carefully chosen items, handwritten notes, or just the thoughtfulness behind each thing that is picked to be sent away. What might seem material on the surface becomes emotional currency, bridging continents through simple acts of remembrance.
How Distance Multiplies Meaning
Human psychology shows us something peculiar: we tend to underestimate the value of what's constantly available. Familiarity breeds comfort but also invisibility, while absence reverses this process and evokes more appreciation. Distance doesn't create meaning; it magnifies it. A taste once taken for granted suddenly begins to taste like home, and a jacket once ignored becomes a vessel for memory. Even silence, which might have once felt ordinary, now hums with the echoes of what used to be conversations, footsteps, and laughter. Absence transforms everyday objects into an emotional archive, a phenomenon that shows how sentiments evolve with context. What is lost in proximity is gained again in reflection. Emotional distance, therefore, becomes a teacher, one that quietly reveals what truly matters.
Fernweh: The Word That Holds It All
The German word "fernweh" captures this feeling in a single haunting expression. When translated, it means "far sickness," a deep longing for places far away or homesickness for somewhere you have never been. Unlike nostalgia, which is a yearning for the past, fernweh looks forward, blending imagination with memory. It speaks to a universal restlessness and a human desire to belong somewhere we have yet to find.
Fernweh is not limited to geography. It can describe emotional distance, the longing for moments that have faded, or even the yearning for versions of ourselves that don't exist. It explains why we sometimes idealize memories or daydream about some experiences untouched by reality. Yet it also teaches us to accept that longing and gratitude can coexist in reality. To feel fernweh is to recognize beauty in incompleteness.
The Silence That Teaches Us Gratitude
In solitude, gratitude starts to grow. The silence of a dorm room, once overwhelming, becomes a space for thinking. The absence of the constant noise of people calling your name or of footsteps in the corridor makes you more aware of the life that used to surround you. You begin to understand how much you once depended on connection, not for survival, but for emotional support. This realization changes what gratitude means. It's no longer about possessions or achievements. It's about having people who think of you and carry memories that remind you where you came from. Gratitude grows not from having more, but from being aware of the little things around us.
Thanksgiving by the Shore
One Thanksgiving evening captured this lesson in its purest form. My friend and I walked down to the South St. boat launch. The campus had grown quiet as most students had gone home. The air was crisp, and the reflection of orange leaves shimmered on the water's surface. There were no big dinners or family gatherings, just the quiet of nature and a shared understanding.
Sitting by the shore, holding hands, we watched the sun go down behind the trees. We closed our eyes, listening to the rhythm of the waves and the distant call of seagulls. In that silence, we found connection, not through talking, but through gratitude. Both of us silently thanked the journey that brought us here, the loved ones who supported us from far away, and the strength that distance had quietly built in us. It was a moment of fernweh in its truest sense, a longing for home mixed with appreciation for the present. Gratitude and yearning came together, showing that belonging isn't always tied to one place. Sometimes it lives in brief moments of stillness where the heart feels both full and empty at once.
Finding Belonging in the In-Between
As time passes, home begins to feel less like a destination and more like a collection of moments, or feelings rediscovered in unexpected spaces. It can be found in the warmth of tea on a cold evening, in shared laughter over unfamiliar food, or in the comfort of knowing someone across the ocean still thinks of you. The experience of distance reshapes our identity and thinking process. It teaches that belonging is something we create, and gratitude is a practice, not a condition. The ache of fernweh reminds us that longing does not mean weakness; it means care. To miss is to love deeply. When distance removes what was once familiar, it invites reflection on what remains. What remains is often stronger and more meaningful than before. In the end, fernweh is not merely a longing to be elsewhere but an awakening to the beauty of the present and the future. It transforms absence into awareness and silence into thankfulness, reminding us that distance does not diminish love, but it redefines it.
Sometimes, what we lose in closeness, we gain in meaning. Perhaps the truest form of belonging is the one that is fragile, distant, and deeply felt.