Home is Where You Make It: Balancing Two Worlds and Building a Dream

Sitting in the Lufthansa Lounge, surrounded by the hum of travelers and the clink of coffee cups, I’m feeling… complicated. Excited? Absolutely. A little sad? That too. In just a few hours, I’ll be on a flight to Germany to spend Christmas with my family—my parents, my sisters, their husbands, and, most importantly, my two nephews. There’s something magical about going home for the holidays: the warmth, the familiar smells of my mom’s cooking, the playful chaos of children, and the late-night conversations that stretch into laughter-filled nostalgia.

But back in the US, my two dogs are staying behind with a dog sitter. If you’re a dog parent, you know exactly what I mean when I say it’s hard. They’re part of my home, too—my everyday companions, my four-legged shadows. Leaving them tugs at my heart, even though I know they’ll be fine…

What’s funny is that I’ll also miss my other home in the US—my own bed, my cozy couch, my new house that I’ve spent the past nine months turning into a true sanctuary. Since moving in this March, I’ve finally started to feel grounded, surrounded by the things that make me, well, me. And I’ll miss the little things, like meeting my friends for a Christmas coffee, something I’m just missing out on.

It’s strange, this duality of belonging. How I can miss one home while going to another. Two places, two worlds, two lives that somehow coexist. It got me thinking: how did I end up here, straddling continents? And what has it taught me—not just about belonging, but about the choices we make to build a life that feels like ours?

Two Homes, Two Hearts

When I packed my bags and moved to the US in early 2018, I knew it would be a big adjustment. I mean, who doesn’t love a good “new country, new me” moment? But let’s be real: it’s not all shiny opportunities and movie montages. It’s awkward moments, homesickness, and a lot of learning curves…

At first, it felt like I was betraying my roots. I’d spent my entire life in Germany, surrounded by family, friends, and a culture that felt like second nature. Suddenly, I was thrown into a world where even simple things—like making small talk at the grocery store—felt foreign. Americans are so chatty! (Germans, you know what I mean.) And don’t even get me started on the bread. Let’s just say, a life without fresh Brötchen was an adjustment.

But slowly, the US started to feel like home, too. I built a life—one that felt like mine. I found my favorite coffee shops, made friends who became family, and adopted two incredible dogs who now rule my household. I learned to navigate the quirks of a new culture and even started to love some of them (yes, I now say “y’all” unironically).

And yet, every Christmas, I feel the pull to go back to Germany. To reconnect with the people and places that shaped me. To eat my mom’s homemade cookies and soak up the comfort of familiarity. What I’ve realized over the years is that it’s not about choosing one home over the other—it’s about learning to hold space for both.

The Gift of Perspective

Living between two worlds teaches you a lot about yourself. For one, it forces you to be adaptable. You learn to navigate different cultural norms, languages, and expectations. You learn to let go of the idea that “home” has to be one fixed place or thing.

It’s also taught me to appreciate the richness of contrast. In Germany, I love the slower pace, the deep conversations, and the rituals that make life feel intentional—like Sunday brunches that last for hours or evening walks with no agenda (and, of course, the Autobahn!). In the US, I thrive on the energy, the ambition, and the sense that anything is possible if you work for it.

This year, though, I find myself thinking even more about what “home” means to me. Since moving into my new house in March, I’ve worked hard to create a space that feels comforting and uniquely mine. It’s filled with little details that reflect who I am, from the books on my shelves to the art on my walls. It’s a place where I can truly exhale.

And I’ll miss that over the next few weeks—the comfort of my bed, the ease of having all my things in one place, the little routines that make my days feel anchored. I’ll miss those spontaneous coffee dates with friends who know exactly how I take my latte and the coziness of curling up with my dogs on a chilly winter night.

But at the same time, I know the trip to Germany will fill my soul in a different way. There’s something irreplaceable about sitting at my parents’ table, catching up on life with my sisters, and seeing the pure joy on my nephews’ faces as they unwrap their presents.

A Modern Kind of Belonging

What I’ve learned is that “home” isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. It’s the connections we nurture, the spaces we create, and the choices we make to live authentically.

For me, home is my family in Germany and my dogs in the US. It’s the German bakery I visit every Christmas Eve and the American coffee shop where the barista knows my name. It’s my parents’ hugs, my nephews’ giggles, and the way my dogs greet me at the door like I’ve been gone for years—even if it’s just a quick trip to the store.

And now, home is also the freedom I’ve built for myself. The ability to design a life that aligns with my values, my passions, and the things that matter most. It wasn’t easy to get here, and let’s be honest—there are still days when I question everything. But moments like this, sitting in the lounge with a ticket to Germany in hand, remind me why I made those choices.

An Invitation to Reflect

So, as I board my flight and settle in for the long haul across the Atlantic, I’ll leave you with this thought: Where do you feel most at home? And how can you create more of that feeling in your life, wherever you are?

Maybe it’s not about finding the “perfect” place or the “perfect” balance, but about embracing the beauty of living between worlds. Whether those worlds are literal—like two countries—or figurative—like the push and pull of work and passion, risk and security, or tradition and change.

Wherever you are, and whatever “home” means to you, I hope you take a moment to appreciate the richness of your own journey.

For me, I’ll be savoring every bit of family time this Christmas—and when I come back to the US, I’ll be greeted by the best welcome committee of all: two wagging tails, reminding me that home really is wherever we make it.