Letter to You | Nov 2025

Hi there, I hope this finds you well.

I went home this month for the first time since 2019. Six years is long enough for the city to feel both familiar and slightly foreign, like a place I once lived in a dream. Jet lag hit hard this time, not on the way there, but on the way back. Going to Asia was easy; the afternoon we landed, we somehow ended up doing an escape room and playing board games with my partner’s best friends. It kept us awake long enough to trick our bodies into adjusting. But coming home was another story. We had back-to-back-to-back family engagements while we were there, and the day we returned, I had to go straight into working in person. My body has been drifting somewhere between time zones all week. Hence… you’re getting this letter a little late.

We visited my grandparents’ resting place. The walkway was surrounded by fruit trees, star fruit, persimmons, and even olive trees. November must have been their season; the persimmons and olives were especially full, hanging heavy and bright against the branches. Being there made me think of my grandma even more, especially after meeting my partner’s grandma earlier in the trip. She was warm and funny in that grandmother way, and being around her brought up an old ache. Standing among those fruit trees, I felt how much I still wish I could sit with my own grandma again, even for a minute.

And then I met my niece for the very first time. She just started kindergarten. That feels impossible to write out. In the six years since I last went home, my cousin got married, went through pregnancy, and now her child is old enough to carry a tiny backpack and run circles around us. Watching my niece made me realize just how much time six years can hold. Entire lives can unfold. Entire little humans can grow up in that span.

Food-wise, I realized my favorite thing from the trip might be the McDonald’s taro pie. I don’t know if it’s objectively wonderful or if nostalgia is doing most of the seasoning, but one bite and I was fifteen again, in the middle of a tumultuous time, still resisting the idea of leaving for a new country because I’d rather stay with the devil I knew.

We didn’t get to do everything we hoped, didn’t get to eat all the things we missed, or revisit every place we’d talked about, but it was still a meaningful trip. Sometimes going home feels like stitching together pieces of yourself you didn’t realize were coming loose. That’s what November felt like. A little messy, a little rushed, but full of tenderness.

Wherever you are, I hope November was kind to you. I hope you found something grounding, whether it was a familiar taste, a familiar place, or a familiar face.

Yours Truly :)