Will I ever find home?

The phone rings. It’s face down on the table, screen hidden.

We’re having lunch on a terrace in Crete. Petteri booked the trip to celebrate my new job. A few weeks ago, my company announced it was shutting down its Finnish branch. Thousands of employees laid off. And yet, somehow, I landed a new role in just two weeks - a VP position at a tech company. It felt surreal. We were lucky. I was lucky.

“Don’t you want to see who it is?” Petteri asks, nodding toward the phone.

I reach over and flip it. My heart skips.

It’s my former manager.

I excuse myself from the table and step away from the clatter of silverware and the sound of waves. I answer. They want to offer me a job at the U.S. headquarters. It would mean relocating by the end of the summer.

When I return, Petteri looks up from his plate. “You said what?”

“I said I’d think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?” His voice tightens. “You already have a great job waiting for you back home. You don’t need another one.”

“I know.”

“And your kids? Mihai is starting college in the fall. Antonia’s about to finish middle school. You really think she’ll want to move away from her friends?”

“I know.”

“You love your life. You’re happy. Aren’t you?” He leans forward. “You can’t seriously be considering this. Let’s just enjoy the rest of this trip. When we’re home, you call them and say thank you, but no.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. I should have said no right away. There’s no version of this that makes sense. It must be pride. Or ego. Or the thrill of being wanted. Why else didn’t I decline?

We should be celebrating. Ordering champagne. Toasting to the way things worked out.

But instead, I hear myself say, “I don’t feel at home in Finland.”

The words surprise me. Him too.

“What are you talking about? You still think of Romania as your home? And even if you do, how is moving to the U.S. any closer?”

He pauses.

“And what about us?”

I don’t have an answer.

I can’t just shut the door on this offer. Not yet. I don’t know if I’ll take it. Maybe Antonia won’t want to leave. Maybe Mihai’s college plans won’t work out from that far away. Maybe this new job won’t be the right fit after all. Maybe I don’t want to start over again.

So many maybes.

So many fears.

The only thing I’m sure of is this: Finland doesn’t feel like home.
And Romania... Romania isn’t home anymore either.

So maybe the question isn’t why I would move.
Maybe it’s—why not?