this summer has been one of my favorite eras thus far and I’ve realized it is because I was always home. finally, that didn’t mean being stuck in my childhood house or another location for many months at a time trapped by the bounds of the still ongoing pandemic or legal status as a minor. I was blessed with the opportunity to spread my wings and travel to several places this summer; however, everywhere I went called me home. prior to college, I vaguely understood claiming multiple places as yours because I repped both the city I was born in and the city that raised me as mine and had formed attachments to the places I visited and met my family. nevertheless, this idea was challenged by overhearing my parents still refer to Cameroon as their home decades after migrating and killed when I refused to identify Princeton as my home. conversely to my interjections on campus that my dorm was not home, this summer reaffirmed the notion that home transcends geographic location on a multitude of levels.

ironically or not, I began the unintentional journey of learning how home travels with me the moment I left campus and spent a few weeks in the country I wouldn’t exist without. upon arrival I was immediately wrapped in the warmth of family members I hadn’t seen or held in many years, fed traditional dishes like ndole and koki with fresh mangos straight from their natural source, and immersed in the one tongue that ties all my family together no matter where we reside. the insufferable heat and humidity in Douala couldn’t interfere with the joy inspired by daily conversations with the coolest person I know, aka my grandpa, about his life, Cameroon’s geopolitics, Bamileke traditions, holistic health practices, and etc. observing my mom and aunt savor the sweetness of in-person sisterhood, linking with cousins I already knew and quickly befriending those I didn’t to partake in shenanigans, spending time in my mom’s village and finally participating in a traditional ceremony for the first time are all just brief snapshots of how my cup was filled to the brim and beyond. at this point it is probably surprising that the entire trip was spent conducting research; however, the work was interwoven with authentic living in a way that prevented it from completely consuming my life or blocking the love and blessings cycling within and around me, and I took this life-sustaining balance with me throughout the remainder of my summer.

the lyrics “city of brotherly love, place I call home” captures the essence of how I feel about Philadelphia. I spun the block and returned for a second 8-week stint in the best Blackity Black city in the northeast! since I had already learned the ropes, this summer was more about plugging into the community rather than just taking in the city. it provided a lens into the future as I worked towards my career in medicine at the bench, alongside other amazing URM* future physicians, under many mentors already doing what I’m gearing up for, and with the communities I plan to serve. there was ample time for the introspection that keeps me afloat and reflection on my career in medicine. moreover, consistently visiting my Philly family to get fed in laughter, advice, and ribs tied the entire experience together.

home even found me in the whirlwind of a weekend that I spent in California with one of my close friends who has the trampoline effect of breaking my falls when I make simple or hurtful mistakes from inexperience and ignorance while simultaneously propping me back up to attempt new undertakings and continue when the going gets tough. the ongoing death of a perfectionist mindset continues to bring me closer to myself.

in many ways my first impression of Jamaica immediately reminded me of home in Cameroon with the terrain, as a country full of Black people, chaotic driving, and other random or intentional similarities that provided a base level of ease from familiarity; nonetheless, it radiated its own distinct identity through the music, typical dishes, unique fruit, and entrancing patois. I had the time of my life trekking through a new country accompanied by my built-in best friend and two of my closest friends while succeeding to live as local as we could. the highlight of the trip was entering and playing in numerous gorgeous bodies of water. a friend once said, “Laz in water is my fav Laz” and she made several points because it’s also my favorite version of myself. my affinity for this element is antithetical to many Cameroonians who have a history of fearing the infamous water spirit, Mami Wata. nevertheless, being in water provides an unparalleled weightlessness and simultaneous grounding that aligns my mind, spirit, and body in a way that naturally awakens my inner child and oozes out creativity, so I guess Mami Wata and I have an understanding. it’s a humbling reminder of my scope versus the world and the majestic beauty God painted. these transcendent moments were followed by reading bell hooks and dancing the nights away with my loves, the basics for enjoying this life of mine and feeling at home within my body.

I closed out my summer at home in the most literal sense. Tampa is the place that raised me whether that be my immediate family, chosen family, mentors, church, teachers, and friends. the adage that it takes a village to raise a child is exemplified when I’m in the city because my community checks in and cares for me as soon as I touch down, and I’ve reached the age where the script has flipped as I become part of others’ villages as well. when I entered my home, I knew I’d find my neon green sanctuary intact as I left it and the first home-cooked meal upon my return has intentionally always been gumbo, my very first and forever my favorite Cameroonian dish, to nourish my soul beyond just my body and brain. there is an undeniable warmth I find in the place and among the people that helped build me into who I am that will always provide me somewhere to relax and additionally invigorate me to go after any and everything I want to achieve, including picking back up this pen.

the experience of naming a place your home extends much further beyond the coordinates you find yourself at. if I continued to rely too heavily on just the geography and landscape to dictate how I define my home, even my hometown wouldn’t qualify as growth and gentrification have rearranged the city and make new parts unrecognizable every time I return and the climate crisis is on its way to destroying the beauty of my favorite element; nevertheless, the people who taught me what love is and my memories with them are still there. the love letter that I could write about each experience, the opportunities I had to return to myself, the soft places to land and the love to relish in that surrounded me are all a testament to how home travels with us wherever we go and sets up camp in the places where we can rest, love and be loved, and our spirits settle. home is ever-changing as we are. we continuously reinvent the combination of experiences, environments, and love that provides the safety necessary to lounge and be vulnerable but also nourishes the strength necessary to create and expand beyond what we know. it is the dynamic condition that allows us to come back to ourselves and shake the ground.

no matter where I went this summer, I was at home with myself. taking care of my body, getting spiritually aligned, investing time in hobbies, eating food that made me dance, dancing to feel alive, doing work I found meaningful because of who it’s supposed to help and reach, finding bodies of water to play in as often as possible, and intentionally surrounding myself with people that love me as I love them. truly, home knows no bounds.

*underrepresented in medicine

a house is not a home x Luther Vandross

my house x Flo Rida