Over the last four months, I’ve had time to observe, reflect, and learn about my new home. I’ve come to recognize things that have saddened me, as well as moments that have opened my heart to Thailand’s warmth, customs, and daily rhythm. Today, I thought I’d take a look through the reflective lens and notate my discoveries.
Family and Friends: Resistance or Perseverance?
When I first announced my decision to move abroad, the news was met with mixed emotions. Some were happy, others puzzled, and a few quietly hurt that I was leaving. While I understood everyone’s feelings, it was ultimately my journey to make — you know? I didn’t want to become one of those people who, in their final hours, whisper, “I wish I had,” or “I should have.” It’s something I talked about in one of my earlier reflections.
I’ve always been the one in my family with the urge to go — to explore new places, to see what life looked like beyond the familiar streets. Even when I was only traveling from state to state within the U.S., I loved discovering the little differences that made each place its own world. Still, as a true New Yorker, I’ll admit — none of them ever quite topped New York. 😊
For years, I dreamed of coming to Thailand. I tried, more than once, to plan a trip with my three sisters — just something to bring us together for a change of scenery and laughter. But every time, there was resistance. You know the lines: “I don’t have the money,” “Maybe next year,” “We already have plans.”
Now that I’m older, I find myself missing them even more — wishing for that one last big trip together. Just the four of us, like it used to be, before life divided us into separate stories. But as time moves on, so do people. Everyone’s busy with their own families and responsibilities, and I’ve had to accept that the “last hurrah” I once hoped for may never happen.
Still, I hold them close — even in silence. Because sometimes, love doesn’t fade; it just changes its volume.
Finding Family in the Quiet
Living halfway across the world has a way of reshaping your idea of family. The physical distance makes the silences louder, yes — but it also gives space for gratitude to grow. I’ve learned that family isn’t only defined by blood or proximity. Sometimes it’s the kind smile of a neighbor who doesn’t speak your language but greets you every morning. Sometimes it’s the café owner who remembers your favorite tea, or the street vendor who slips an extra mango into your bag because they’ve come to recognize your face.
Thailand has taught me that warmth can be unspoken. Connection doesn’t always need translation. Here, love often shows up quietly — through gestures, consistency, and presence. And in those moments, I feel a kind of peace that reminds me: though oceans may separate me from the people I was born to, I am not unloved, and I am certainly not alone.
Distance has also given me clarity. I no longer chase after what refuses to meet me halfway. I send love where it’s needed, but I no longer anchor my worth to its return. There’s a calm that comes with that acceptance — a calm I never knew I needed until I heard my own spirit exhale.
Reflections of Release
I used to think that letting go meant giving up — that if I didn’t keep trying, I didn’t care enough. But now I understand that release is its own form of love. It allows both sides to breathe again. I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t just for others — it’s a gift you give to yourself.
The ghosts of family linger, yes, but not to haunt. They remind me of who I was, who I am, and who I’m still becoming. And though silence sometimes takes the place of words, I’ve learned to hear love in new ways — through peace, through distance, and through the beautiful sound of my own healing.
💋 Lois H. Percente – L%e
Essence of Pride 
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