In 2020, I traveled to Bolivia, my country of origin. I was able to spend Christmas and New Years with family for the first time since I moved 16 years ago. It was more emotional this time since holidays are typically very intimate. You are united with loved ones. Growing up, I was not always in constant communication with my family, as it was harder back in the days when FaceTime and Zoom did not exist. I grew up buying phone-cards and scratching the ticket so my mom could hear her mom’s voice. I used to envy close-knit big families that could gather together for Thanksgiving. This trip was longer than usual, so I visited new sights and places I used to dream about. Bringing my camera and camcorder was essential, as I often sat with a feeling of emptiness when I was there. I wasn’t lonely. Everything felt new. I was in a disconnected state of mind. I met family members I didn’t know existed. I stayed with my grandparents often. Having breakfast and lunch together was important to me. Those moments were when I felt most connected. I also visited my other grandmother’s home, which is where I used to live as a child and remember most from my childhood. I was mainly looked after by my three grandparents and aunts and uncles once my parents moved to the States after I turned 3. The smells in my grandmother’s kitchen, where the magic happens, roam in my head forever. I vividly remember eagerly sitting outside on a humid sunny day with my sister after kindergarten, waiting for my grandmother’s delicious meals to be served for us. We were obnoxious little four year olds running around the house. The homes of my grandparents hold the sweetest memories. I realized that everything I captured and packed on my rolls of film and video camera would be fleeting memories that are honored in time. Creating this was a way of giving myself some sense of intimacy or closure towards my surroundings, towards family, towards the land. I’d even say it’s an ode to my childhood, to show five -year-old little me that I’d come back. I can look back at my past wistfully. There is comfort and love that I find in the feeling of nostalgia and how I retrieve and store memory. The longing for connection and belonging is a shared experience amongst all immigrants. It is hard to sustain a relationship with a distant place that at one point felt like Home. It was Home. It is Home. I’ll always call it Home.