Belgium - A Homecoming of Sorts

"Home is not a place… It’s a feeling.” — Cecelia Ahern

We arrived at Brussels Airport Zaventem around 8 p.m., the sky already cloaked in darkness, and that familiar European chill brushing our cheeks. Kris and Veerle were waiting at the arrivals gate—our welcome party. It was our first time meeting Veerle in person after countless video calls, and she was just as warm and genuine as she’d always been through the screen.

After dropping off our backpacks at Kiki’s mom’s place, we drove to Veerle’s house. We shared midnight snacks in her kitchen, chuckling over tea and leftover treats, before curling up in Hannes, one of her son’s beds, tucked under thick covers. It was good to rest.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window as we gathered for coffee in the kitchen. We stepped out for a crisp morning walk in De Schorre, a nature park made famous by Tomorrowland, but peaceful and serene on a weekday. Giant wooden troll statues loomed from the forest—our third encounter with trolls this trip—and made us laugh with their quirky expressions and hidden spots along the path.

We were late for our brunch reservation, only to find out the restaurant had stopped serving brunch on weekdays. Kiki, visibly disappointed—she’d been looking forward to that meal for months—settled for a panini. I didn’t mind. Food is food, and the company was what truly filled me.

With full bellies and warm spirits, we drove to A.S. Adventure and other outdoor stores, checking off our list of gear needed for Nepal. Back at Veerle’s, tea and Belgian chocolates accompanied our trip-planning session for their upcoming holiday in Cambodia—April 2025 was beginning to take shape.

That evening, we were invited to Grandma’s. Her house, with her flower-filled garden where she is rightfully proud of, and neatly arranged knick-knacks, smelled of warm stews and memories. She served rabbit, forgetting Kiki doesn’t eat meat, which meant more for the rest of us. The pièce de résistance was the cake she magically pulled from the fridge. We left with full bellies and full hearts, rolling into Kiki’s mom’s house like returning heroes from a feast.

The next day was supposed to be all about Chrissie. We had made plans for weeks, but she fell ill just that morning. Instead, we took her dog, Roosje, and made our way back to Grandma’s. The soup was warm, the coffee strong, and the beer—Belgian, of course—perfect. Kris heard we were there and dropped everything to join us. It was spontaneous and sweet.

That evening, I caught a train to Meulebeke—a three-hour ride across quiet countryside and rolling fields. I used the time to listen to music and read. My family welcomed me with hugs, stories, and the ever-enthusiastic Medli, our golden retriever.

The days in Meulebeke settled into a rhythm. Early coffees with my parents, work sessions at my father’s office, where I managed to greet my grandfather, still skeptical of my choice to live abroad, but happy to see me nonetheless. We walked with Medli along the Ingelmunster canal at dusk and shared a meal at the rustic local diner De Fagot, the smell of fries, sauce, and wood smoke in the air.

I took a full-day round-trip to visit my grandmother in Rotselaar the following day. Her eyes lit up when I walked through the door, and her voice spilled out stories and feast plans like a fast-flowing river.

Friday brought another forest walk with Medli, my mom, and Lore. Golden leaves crunched under our boots as we strolled for nearly an hour. We ended the walk with beers in the autumn sun and a plate of fries—a Friday tradition no one skips.

Then Kiki arrived. Medli’s joy was through the roof. We returned to the forest again as a full pack. On Sunday morning, the smell of warm pistolets filled the kitchen, that classic Belgian breakfast of crusty rolls, soft cheese, and laughter.

We went to lunch at a cozy local restaurant, where—between the soup and main course—Kiki nearly proposed. No ring, no grand gesture, but the love was real. So, I’m still waiting for a second attempt… just in case.

We walked in a forest with everyone, enjoying our last moments together. By the evening, we were repacking our bags and saying goodbye to the place we both once called home.