Dancing in September

September, and I wonder how time flew by so quickly... What have we done with it? In any case, it’s always a good time, in the chaos, to stop and recalculate the route.

After wandering through countless Airbnbs, tasting unforgettable food, falling in love with some places, and vowing eternal hate for others, I finally set foot on the same streets where I grew up.

I spent many days imagining, since I left Brazil, that I would only return for a very serious reason, perhaps in an extreme situation with no way out.

An old saying goes that no place is like home. In this sense, I still don’t have a home, but I feel happy being back in my country. I didn’t need a serious reason or an emergency to come back; it just took a bit of courage to face old fears and risk the almost nonexistent stability we had.

Time flew in places we loved but it felt endless with our recent choices. Almost like a limbo. I missed enjoying the simple life, but in my own way: going to the market, eating pastel, having casual chats with strangers in line, looking at a stranger on the street, and, in a way, understanding them as well as I understand myself. Being in this community, which is both mine and that of all Brazilians, brings a sense of belonging. Upon returning, everyone feels the same.

At the beginning of the year, I said many times that I would go back to Brazil, but I didn’t imagine it would be so soon. It felt like it had been 10 years since I left when, in fact, I was nearing two. The beans with more flavor, the pure açaí, the farofa, and the picanha. I missed the food, praying the mass in Portuguese, things I hadn’t realized until then.

Coming back feels like a brief rest before a new adventure. I’ll use this time to organize my thoughts and plan my next steps before packing my suitcase and carry-on again.

But we still have a lot of time ahead; three months is enough for many things to happen. I hope to make the most of every moment, celebrating each reunion and rediscovering what it means to be home.