“Your eyes are different.”

These were the first words my uncle said to me after I arrived home from my first year travelling abroad.

That was many years ago, and in the moment I remember thinking that his words were literal, that maybe something had changed physically while I was gone.

But it didn’t take long after returning to realize how much I had really changed in that year. Looking back, while life at home was much the same as before I left, I had changed significantly. I felt out of place.

I moved around so much over the previous year. I experienced so many unique cultures and surroundings and ways of life. Once home, it took a long time to get back into the steady flow of a society that was both familiar and foreign at the same time.

I didn’t own a cell phone for months upon returning.

Things were different. I was different. I saw things through a different lens.

My eyes were different.

It took some time to realize that my uncle’s comment was metaphorical. Looking back now, it seems obvious. He travelled a lot, he knew how much travel changes a person.

A few short weeks ago, my uncle passed away. And I’ve been thinking a lot about the times we spent together and the conversations we had. And this one line keeps coming back to me. It was so simple, yet so profound.

I write this overlooking the sea from an island off the Belizean coast. He travelled in Central America many times, long before it became the destination it is today. I think he would have liked it here.

It seems a fitting spot to finally process it all as I allow things to go on, as my eyes continue to change — just as his changed so many times before.