Living in Nice, where the Mediterranean Sea meets the mountains, I find myself drawn to the peacefulness of nature. And yet, home for me isn't just a place—it’s a feeling.
Vietnam, where I grew up, will always be a part of my heart. It’s where my roots are, where my family and many of my friends still live, and where I spent much of my life. I was born in Cao Bằng, a beautiful mountainous town in northern Vietnam. The peaceful river and the limestone mountains shaped my love for both water and land. Maybe that’s why I feel so at home in Nice, France, where the mountains meet the sea.
Yesterday, after finishing my French class, I walked through the Coulée Verte and felt a moment of deep contemplation. Someone at my talk “Starting All Over” last week in Nice asked,
"What does 'home' mean to you?" I paused. The question lingered in the air, and I shared simply,
"I’m still contemplating that."
But after some quiet reflection, I found my answers. For me, home has many meanings:
· Sometimes, home is the freedom of wandering through nature, breathing in fresh air, and just being present. I feel at home when I allow myself to simply be—no agenda, no rush—just soaking in the beauty around me.
· Other times, home is the quiet, sacred space where I connect with myself, my breath, and feel grounded and safe.
· And in some moments, home is my anchor—my dear husband and daughter, who share this journey with me in France.
As I was walking, I looked up and saw a small cluster of purple flowers climbing around a tall pine tree. I paused, enchanted. The delicate beauty of those flowers reminded me of the postcard lavender fields of Provence, here in southern France.
I took a photo and sat down on a nearby bench to learn more about the plant on my plant app.
To my surprise, it was called the
Happy Wanderer.
