Excitement, Then Calm, Then Missing Home

People describe excitement first, then a settled calm, and then a wave of homesickness that seems to come out of nowhere.

By Neil Solomon · 3 min read

Picture a couple named Marta and Dennis. Both are in their sixties. Dennis's mother is ninety. Marta's brother lives two hours from their old home, and they saw him every Sunday for thirty years. They have just moved across an ocean to a town they chose with care.

The first weeks are full. There are forms, markets, a new key, a view from the terrace. Then the boxes are unpacked, the paperwork is done and the days grow calm. In that calm, something unexpected arrives.

I have noticed this shape in many accounts. People describe excitement first, then a settled calm, and then a wave of homesickness that seems to come out of nowhere. One writer about Portugal put the whole arc in a single line, and I think many of us would recognise it. The surprise is not that the feeling comes. It is when.

Who people miss

What I notice is that people rarely miss "home" as a place. They miss a person at a table.

A woman in France described friends and family visiting, and how their visits made her new life feel real. It was as if the people from her old life had stamped it as true. That tells me something. A visit is not only company. It is permission to believe in the move.

A person in Ireland wrote about the gap between a Saturday lunch in one time zone and a Saturday supper in another. Two meals, one shared day, and a screen between them. I find that picture tender. The call works, and it also shows exactly how far away everyone is.

Someone who came home to Estonia after many years spoke of making peace with a mother who was no longer alive. That is another kind of distance. It cannot be closed by a flight.

How it differs by place

I would not claim that a country changes how much you miss people. But the setting seems to shape what the missing feels like.

• In Portugal and Croatia, people describe long, warm days that make the quiet easier to enjoy, yet also make a phone call from home land more sharply.
• In France and Ireland, the stories lean on visitors and on shared meals, so the rhythm of visits matters.
• In Norway, retirees who moved describe a stretch of feeling too quiet, and then a sense of belonging. The gap came first, the belonging later.
• In Armenia, one person said parents worried, and had no regrets. Both things sat together.
• In Malta, a man retired early and sounded content, which reminds me that not everyone has the wave.

A short moment

Marta called her brother on a grey Tuesday.

"Is it strange that I miss the Sunday drive?" she asked.

"I miss it too," he said. "Tell me what you see out your window. I will tell you what I see out mine."

They did that for an hour. It was not the same as a drive. It was something, and she hung up feeling lighter.

What I make of it

I think the useful question is not "Will I miss them?" Most of us will. A better question might be what the missing will look like in month four, when the excitement is gone and the days are ordinary. A plan for that month may matter more than a plan for the first.