The time I'm thinking of was when I came home to Chittagong after spending six months in Germany on a work placement with an engineering company in Stuttgart. It was my first time living abroad, and although it was a great experience, by the end I was really homesick.
The journey home was long and exhausting. I took a train to Frankfurt, then a flight to Dubai, where I had a seven-hour layover, and then another flight to Dhaka. In Dhaka, my connecting flight to Chittagong was delayed by three hours because of fog. Altogether, it took me about thirty hours door to door, and I barely slept.
But when I finally arrived home, it was worth every minute. My mother had cooked all my favourite dishes, including hilsa fish curry, which I'd been dreaming about for months. My younger sister had decorated my room with a 'Welcome Home' banner, and our neighbours came round to say hello.
I think I was so happy for several reasons. Firstly, there was the comfort of familiar things: the food, my own bed, and even the noise of the traffic outside, which I'd actually missed. Secondly, in Germany I'd always felt slightly like an outsider, even though people were kind, and at home I could completely relax and be myself. And finally, being away had made me appreciate my family much more. I'd taken them for granted before. That evening, sitting on the floor eating with my hands and laughing with my family, I felt a kind of peace I hadn't felt in months.