For years, I thought the goal of a holiday was to get home.

To survive it.

To enjoy as much of it as possible.

Then return to safety.

Home was always the destination.

The place where everything made sense again.
The place where routines returned.
The place where uncertainty ended.

This holiday taught me something unexpected.

Sometimes going home feels sad.

Not because home is bad.

I love my home.
I love my routines.
I love my familiar spaces.
I love knowing where everything is.

But something happens when you spend a week living differently.

You create a temporary little life.

A life built from bus journeys and takeaway coffees.

From cliff walks and family jokes.
From weather forecasts and plans for tomorrow.

Slowly, without noticing, it starts to feel normal.

Then suddenly it’s over.

I don’t think I was sad because the holiday ended.

I think I was sad because I wasn’t finished living it.

There were still places I wanted to see.
Still walks I wanted to take.
Still memories waiting to be made.

For twenty years I avoided holidays because I was afraid I wouldn’t cope.

Now I was sad because I wanted more.
That feels important.
Because sadness and regret aren’t the same thing.

If I had regretted the holiday, I would have been relieved to leave.

Instead, I found myself wishing for extra time.

One more day.
One more morning.
One more chance to wake up and wonder what the day might bring.

That sadness was evidence of something.

Evidence that I had enjoyed myself.
Evidence that I had felt safe enough to relax.
Evidence that I had built something worth missing.

Most importantly, it was evidence that my world had become bigger.

Twenty years ago, leaving home felt frightening.

This time, coming home felt difficult.

Not because home had changed.

Because I had.

When people talk about personal growth, they often imagine dramatic transformations.

I don’t think it works like that.

Sometimes growth looks like sitting in a taxi with a suitcase.

Feeling sad.

And realising that the place you’re leaving has become somewhere you’ll want to return to.

The holiday ended.
The memories didn’t.

And neither did the knowledge that I can do it again.

Next time, perhaps, with a coat.

— Frost ❄️