Summer Somewhere Else: When Everyone’s Soaking Up Sunshine and You Just Miss Home
Photo by ManuelTheLensman on Unsplash
Let’s get one thing out of the way: summer in Texas is hot, (today it actually got to 102 degrees), the, “I’m pretty sure my eyelashes are sweating” kind of hot. While everyone around me is planning pool days, lake trips, and cookouts, I find myself… kind of stuck. Not unhappy. Just not quite here. Because while the sun is shining, my heart’s 8,000 miles away, In Kenya. Don’t get me wrong, I am not ungrateful to be here, I just miss home, I know most of you understand the feeling.
You see, summer has a way of bringing everything close to the surface. And while I love iced drinks, sundresses, and pretending I enjoy being outdoors (I don’t, not really, I am an introvert through and through), there’s this subtle ache that comes with the season—because everyone else seems to be home for the summer. Relaxed. Rooted. Surrounded by family.
And me? I’m here—grateful, yes, but also homesick. I miss the smell of ugali and nyama choma, with some Kachumbari, ( I know every Kenyan in the diaspora just got hungry), cooking in the kitchen, the sounds of Swahili and Kikuyu swirling in the air, the rhythm of home that no playlist or potluck in Texas can quite capture. Funny story in Kenya they are complaining how cold it is (their one month winter that actually feels like late fall), but I still crave to be there.
I miss my people.
I miss not needing to explain myself or where I’m from. I miss belonging by default.
Here, I always feel like I’m gently translating myself. Always adjusting—my accent, my references, my food, my cultural jokes (that no one laughs at because, well, they just don’t get it). And in the summer? That feeling hits harder. Summer is usually marketed as this magical, all-American, joy-filled vibe—pool parties, beaches, fireworks, road trips, rooftop parties. But when your roots are across the ocean, it’s hard not to feel like you're watching it all through a window. You’re smiling, showing up, maybe even grilling—but part of you is somewhere else.
And if that’s you too—if you’re the one smiling at the cookout while secretly craving the comfort of your mother tongue, your hometown flavors, your people—I see you.
You’re not alone in that quiet in-between space.
It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It doesn’t mean you’re missing out. It just means your heart is bilingual. Multicultural. It belongs in more than one place.
So this summer, I’m learning to hold both.
The longing and the laughter.
The homesickness and the here-and-now.
The joy of iced tea with new friends, and the ache for chai with family.
Affirmation for today:
“I can feel homesick and still be whole. My identity stretches across continents—and that’s something to celebrate.”
So here’s to those of us who feel a little out of place during a season that tells us we should be carefree.
You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re just carrying something precious—home. Even when it’s far away.
Written by: Maureen Mbugua