Here we are, Pudong. I’m about to fly home to the Netherlands. First time seeing my parents, sister, and brother in almost four years.

I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m so excited, but also sad it has taken this long.

China has given me so much these four five years, but not long talks sitting next to my mom, motorbike rides with my brother, poking the fireplace with my dad and putting on another log, walks with my sister and going back for her homemade cake.

I want to hug everyone, cross the forests and moorlands of our hometown. Meet my new niece and nephew, and visit the grave from a funeral I missed. I have brought gifts, and a flower.

I’ve been nostalgic, but it is not always a healthy emotion. I’ve watched old Dutch TV programs, listened to my dad’s favorite vinyl records, walked the streets on Google Streetview. We’ve had hundreds of phone calls. But they can not, could not replace that.

I can’t think too much about what’s ahead or I feel like crying. The good kind. I think this scar can heal, and fast too.