Let the Waves Take You Home

It starts with a feeling.
Not a memory—
A feeling.
A hush in the chest. A flicker behind the ribs.
A quiet warmth like you’ve just remembered something precious you never meant to forget.

The ocean knows. The sky knows.
The wind that rushes through your hair on a cold morning knows.

The feeling grows.
It grows into a hope.
A child’s kind of hope.
The kind that looks at a wardrobe and believes it might lead somewhere.

A hope that somewhere, not too far from here,
There is a place where the snow is soft and endless,
Where forgiveness is real,
Where you are brave even when you’re scared.
Where you’re never truly alone.

Somewhere where the light doesn’t burn, but welcomes you.
Somewhere you always meant to be.

And then that hope turns into a thought.
And that thought becomes a whisper.
And the whisper becomes a promise.
And the promise becomes a call.
And you answer.
Even if you don’t understand it yet.

"You’ll come back when you call me… no need to say goodbye."

This one is for the kids who would give anything to go back.
Back to the sound of swords clashing in snow-covered woods.
Back to the sails flapping in the wind, golden water stretching to the horizon.
Back to firelight and crowns and siblings who never left your side.

Back to the sweet taste of something forbidden—
soft, powdery, dangerous—
but so needed in the moment you were starving for comfort.

This is for the dreamers.
The ones who never really left.
Who wake up sometimes crying and don’t know why.
Who look at the stars and remember something they never got to say.
Who carry the weight of quiet bravery in their chests every day.

Because something in us remembers.
The child in us knows.
We are not just flesh and plans and calendars.
We are longing. We are light.
We are stories looking for home.

We are Lucy stepping forward with wonder.
We are Edmund learning what redemption means.
We are Susan holding grief and grace at once.
We are Peter, sword drawn, heart open.

And even when they tell us to let go—
even when the door is closed—
we never stop looking for it.

Because we heard the call once.

And once is enough.

"Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it’s never been this way before…"

Let the waves take you.
Let the wind carry your sails.
Let yourself remember, fully, without shame—
That moment when you knew you were part of something bigger than yourself.

Let yourself believe again.

You’re not too old to believe in wonder.
You’re not too far gone to believe in friendship.
You’re not too broken to follow the music.

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger,
Until they rise before your eyes—
Clearer than sunlight.
Warmer than fire.
Stronger than doubt.

There is nothing childish about wonder.
There is nothing weak about dreaming.

This isn’t just nostalgia.
This is your cathedral.
Your compass.
Your map home.

This is a lantern in the snow.
This is the taste of Turkish Delight when you thought no one would ever love you again.
This is a sword in your hand when your legs are shaking.
This is a brother standing beside you when the world seems lost.
This is you, looking fear in the face, and still choosing kindness.

This is not a goodbye.
It never was.

"You’ll come back when it’s over…
No need to say goodbye."

Paint this across your heart in gold.
Whisper it like a spell when the world gets too loud.
Write it in the margins of your notebooks, your prayers, your quietest moments:

“I was there. I remember. And I still believe.”

Let them laugh. Let them forget.
But you—
You hold the light.

You keep the door open.

And when the time comes,
you’ll know which wave to ride.
You’ll know which star to follow.

And you’ll return.

You always do.

by Onnaya