Returning Home

and how I know I'm not alone + conclusion on series with New Grub Street

Feb 09, 2026

Summer 2025 — Belfast, NI

It’s chilly outside even though it’s mid-July. It’s only my second day here, but I've quickly come to learn a good summer day in Northern Ireland equals no rain, partly cloudy skies, and a sprinkle of rays providing just enough sunshine to ease the soul. I did just arrive from 100ºF weather in Madrid, muuuy caliente, so the coolness is refreshing. I take in the crisp air, letting it fill my lungs with excitement, as my sister-in-law and I leave the hotel lobby and begin the two-block journey toward the Assembly Buildings.

Home to the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland, the building is covered in multicolored brick and large stained-glass windows. My eyes travel the height of the gothic-style clock tower, squinting and trying to make out the ornate stonework and pinnacles that decorate the exterior. In the midst of a bustling city square, this historic building takes my breath away. The conference hasn’t even started and there is already so much beauty to behold. The doors to the main room swing open as volunteers welcome us in. I can hear the organ playing the beginning of a hymn I can’t quite make out. I step inside, into another world.

Present — Seattle, WA

It was the theme that truly drew me to The C.S. Lewis Summer Institute a few months ago. A call extended to me from across the world.

Returning Home: C.S. Lewis, Roots, and Transformation.

I had been down that road for a while, the one that promised a return home, and had found it wanting. I was also in the middle of writing my debut poetry collection (literally centered on my own longing for home) so naturally I couldn’t resist the invitation.

Northern Ireland shaped Lewis’ imagination like no other place in the world. This didn’t surprise me. By the time I arrived at the conference, I was well aware of the power that culture and place had to shape the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of an individual. An immigrant and wanderer of a country not my own, I was acquainted with the homesickness that came to those who chose to leave a place of belonging behind. But, what surprised me most was Lewis’ unique ability to hold two tender realities at once.

It was the towering, green cliffs of the Irish countryside that inspired his creation of other worlds. It was a doorknob he saw as a child at his grandfather’s house that gave life to the lion we all know and love, Aslan. It was also in Belfast that Lewis first recalled feeling the ache that would run throughout his work—a longing for a far-off country.

I, like Lewis, have been shaped and formed by the roots that anchor me. By the vibrant orange mangos that grow every summer in the DR. By the sound of merengüe and bachata playing well into the night, causing hips to sway and colmados to shake. By the roll of the Caribbean Sea and the accompanying smell of salt that punctures the air. By the warmth of the family table, la mesa familiar, with enough hugs to go around for days. Enough love to last a lifetime.

I, like Lewis, have sensed the ephemerality of these things. How beauty dissipates before we’re ever able to truly grasp it.

Mangos fall and rot on the ground. The songs on the radio turn to static. The sea fills with rage when a hurricane hits. La mesa familiar is not immune to complications, hardships, fights. We cannot survive on crumbs and there is enough ache to leave us hungry for a lifetime, too.

But, I find strange comfort in knowing the longings that weigh my heart down are not mine alone. I am not the first person to feel, express, or write about this return home we’re all desperately waiting for. I also know I will not be the last. Lewis taught me that.

We are all returning. We are all on our way. We are all home in each other.

Thank you Andrew Roycroft for lending space to my words and story over at New Grub Street. Our conversations further enriched my understanding of my own work and I’m so humbled by the way you thoughtfully interacted with my poetry collection. Thank you for joining me under the samán tree. I’m glad the C.S. Lewis Summer Institute brought so many of us together, to remind us we are not alone on our pilgrimage.