The Power of Nostalgia Even in Travel. I Love to Revisit the Places That Made Me

I Have A List Of Places I Visit As A Routine When I Am In Antigua and In New York City

I love standing in a place from your past that sends me on a time travel of nostalgia. The house I grew up in looks older and smaller, and the ceiling is lower. The road looks narrower, the air smells the same, the soil looks the same, and some of the trees have changed. Have you ever done this type of travel? Back in time? For a moment, existing on two timelines at once? You are here but emotionally, also there.

There are two places I love to return to. The first is Cozine Avenue in Brooklyn, New York, and Christian Hill in Antigua. It's like my personal pilgrimage. They're pieces of my history, reminders of who I was, and markers of how far I've come.

We travel for so many reasons—to escape, to explore, to relax—but what about nostalgic travel? You may have physically left a long time ago. You grew up. Moved on. There was a version of yourself that lived in that space that maybe you recognize. Maybe you suffered back then and are happy for your growth, maybe you were happy then and life deteriorated over time, or maybe life remained steady as she goes. It's a version of ourselves we thought we left behind. How do the memories make you feel?

We Must Often Revisit Our Past to Understand Our Present

I grew up in a village called Christian Hill in Antigua. The roads, the hills, the loblolly, mango, plum, genip, sugar-apple, and soursop trees I climbed as a child, the pastures with cattle, sheep, goats, and donkeys, and my pet dog—this was my entire world for years. It was where I learned to love nature, where I felt free to roam rolling hills and the coast, and where I began to understand what it meant to be human and to belong somewhere. The dogs that chased me and my cousin through those neighborhoods eagerly guarding their family's territory.

The saltwater on my skin after a day at the beach would shrivel my fingertips, and water would drain from my nasal passage days later when I bent my head forward. The laughter of my cousins as we rode donkeys through the hills. We would collaborate to pull thorns from our feet after a day in the hills. Sail the coast on rafts we made from daggalog (a giant agave log that floated when dry)—these were lovely childhood memories. They were also foundational experiences that shaped the person I am today.

Cozine Avenue in Brooklyn is different. It's not where I spent most of my childhood and not my primary years.

That was Christian Hill, Antigua, and later, after my primary personality was set, I moved to Bronx, NYC. Even though I lived and went to school in the Bronx, my nostalgia is primarily fed by Brooklyn. It was the last place my mother lived before she passed. That address holds a kind of sincerity for me. Even though I moved back to Antigua for high school, I visited her annually, often hanging out on my own, roaming New York City while she worked and doing stuff on the weekend with her, like visiting Radio City Music Hall, the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center (the first two), shopping, or just hanging out in a park.

Because it's where I last visited her when she was well, where we last spoke, where I last saw her brown-gummy smile, where I would bend her long polished nails— she would get annoyed with me, where she still kept my BMX bike from when I was a kid, where she displayed oil-painted art all over the wall—much of it either black power conscience or scenic views of life in Antigua, and even one of me, where her presence still lingers in ways I can't quite describe. It's been 32 years, and I still miss her. How can such emotions last an eternity? Returning there isn't always easy, but it's necessary. I last visited it in 2019. It reminds me of what I lost, but also what I carry forward.

Why Nostalgia Matters, Even in Travel

There's a reason we hold onto old photos, listen to songs from our teenage years, and keep things that once belonged to people we loved. We're trying to hold onto something real, something tangible that reminds us of where we've been. The object triggers our memories of where it's been. But revisiting places from your past is even more powerful.

1. It helps you reconnect with your identity and who you are. You understand why you care about the things you care about. We return to our childhood, or as my maternal grandmother would say, "once a man, twice a child," signally that in life, we always return to versions of our childhood in various ways.
2. Going back to places from your childhood gives you clarity about who you are and what shaped you, why you do the things you do, what your triggers are for happiness and sadness, and even anger, and what makes you nervous or anxious. It reminds you of what really matters beyond the noise of everyday life.
3. It gives you perspective. Sure, you have changed, but why? What are you running from? Who are you running from? Is it a younger version of you? Is it someone else? Is it something else? How did this place help you perceive the world?
4. Seeing these places again as an adult makes you realize how much you've grown. Maybe the streets and roads that once felt endless now seem small and narrow. Maybe the fears you had back then seem laughable now. Do you chuckle at yourself when you remember the strange and simple things you were afraid of? Time changes everything around us and in us, but coming back lets you see how much you've evolved since you left this space.
5. It's a way to honor your past. We come from somewhere. Every personality you meet has a past that guides them now. It may be good or bad, but it helped to mold us into who we are today. Remembering that the past helps us fix whatever we are dissatisfied with, but also helps us to be grateful for the lessons learned.
6. Some people want to move forward and never look back because they fear what they will recall. They fear what they have become. They are afraid of the monsters within them. I don't believe in erasing the past. It's a reality that happened then. Acknowledging where you came from is part of embracing where you're going. Hopefully, we all want to be better as we evolve. Acknowledging your past goes for a person as well as a family or country.

This All Matters Because of Legacy Building, Where You Show Children Where They Came From

I am always telling my children about the past, just as my elder family did with me. We are storytellers, and sometimes we repeat the stories, much to the eye-rolling youngsters, but we do it anyway because it's valuable to them more than they realize at that moment. I want to take my children to these places someday. I want them to walk the same streets, smell the same air, and see the places that built me. Not because I expect them to feel the same connection I do but because I want them to understand who I am beyond just being their father. I think we should all do this for our significant partner as well, to help solidify relationships by a deeper understanding of our past lives.

We don't always think about how our children see us. To them, we exist in the present—we are the providers, the guides, the ones who seem to have always been adults. Sometimes, we seem to have everything worked out, and other times, we seem like we are lost adults. But they don't always see the journey we take because they are there sharing the experiences, albeit from their perspectives. They don't always see the child we once were, the struggles we overcame, the dreams we held before they even existed.

Taking them to these places is a way of making my past real for them, of showing them the people and places that shaped the father they know. It's about helping them understand that life is about the roots that ground you and the experiences that shape you.

I Think You Should Do This

If you've never thought about revisiting the places that shaped you, consider it. Whether it's your childhood home, your old school, or just a park where you used to spend your afternoons—going back is an experience that can be surprisingly emotional, grounding, and even healing.

• If you have kids, take them with you. Let them see where you grew up. Share stories. Show them the world before they are in it. Talk about the good and the bad.
• If you lost someone, visit the places that remind you of them. It's not always emotionally easy, but it keeps their memory alive in a way that nothing else can.
• If you feel lost in life, go back to where you started. Sometimes, the best way to move forward is to remember where you came from.

Life moves fast. You only live once (YOLO). With all the hustle of nine-to-five, bills, politics, and present-day survival, how often do we get a chance to pause, feel, and remember our lives? Nostalgic travel forces you to slow down. It reconnects you to parts of yourself you may have forgotten. And if you do it right, it reminds you that every version of you—past, present, and future—is still part of your story. You are still making your story today.

So go back. Visit the places that made you. And if you have a story to share, I'd love to hear it.

Take care.

You can learn more about my journey here.