There’s a question people often ask each other—“Where do you live now?”—and it’s usually answered with a city or a country. A dot on the map. A place with a postal code.

But for me, the real answer is a little different.

Where I live now… is peace.
Where I live now… is warmth and safety.
Where I live now… is my happy place.

And no, I don’t mean a perfect house or a postcard view. I mean something deeper—a feeling, a moment, a quiet knowing in my heart that this is where I was meant to be.

For a long time, I searched for it. Not just a home, but a space where I could truly belong. That search took years. It meant leaving my home country, leaving familiar streets, faces, and routines. It meant holding my family’s hand and stepping into the unknown. It meant starting over.

That’s not easy to do.

I know so many people—especially those who have moved from one country to another—who are still searching. Still unpacking boxes, still wondering if they’ve arrived or if they’re just passing through again. Still asking themselves if this is home, or just another stop on the way to something better.

But I am one of the lucky ones.

Because now, when I look around, I know that we’ve found it. Our happy place. Not because everything is perfect—not at all. But because it feels right. Because I can breathe here. Because I can dream here.

We have a roof over our heads.
We have food on the table.
We have a quiet street, and a backyard where my son can laugh.
We have kind neighbors.
We have freedom, peace, and time together.

That’s it. That’s the magic. That’s enough.

Some people wait their whole lives to find a place like that. Others walk right past it, chasing something shinier. But for me, it’s never been about shiny. It’s about solid. Safe. Honest.

And when I think about how much a person really needs to feel happy, the list is so much smaller than I once thought. A place to live. Something to eat. People you love and who love you back. And a safe space for your children to grow.

If you have that—you’re rich. You’re free. You can start again. You can fly. You can build, write, love, and even fall down sometimes, because you know there’s something soft and warm to land on.

That’s what this place has become for me. A landing place. A launching pad. A shelter from storms.

And when I say I’m grateful—I mean it in the deepest way.

I don’t take this for granted. I know how many people live in fear, uncertainty, or isolation. I know what it’s like to lie awake at night wondering what’s next, and where to go. That’s why every ordinary day here feels like a small miracle.

The coffee tastes better. The silence is kinder. The light in the window glows a little warmer.

Where I live now is not perfect.
But it is mine.
Ours.

And I think that’s what we’re all looking for—not just a place, but a feeling.

The feeling that you’ve arrived. That the road brought you somewhere that makes sense. That the sacrifices were worth it.

I hope everyone finds that place.
And if you’re still searching, I hope you don’t give up. Sometimes, it takes time. Sometimes, it doesn’t look the way you imagined. But one day, you’ll wake up, look around, and feel it in your bones.

I’m home.

GK

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Published by georgi.kisyov

44 thoughts on “Where I Live Now”

  2. Wow! This was so well written, I was moved to my core. Your choice of words to describe your place in this world seems to have come from a much deeper place. Absolutely beautiful. Thank you, we feel the same in our place in this world. Blessings and Prayers 🙏

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  7. I remember having a place like that in Indiana. It was our dream house with a great layout, a big backyard, friends nearby, and a cattle farm down the street that sold fresh, raw milk and eggs. Until we couldn’t afford to live there anymore.

    When we moved to Georgia 9 years ago, we were in a rush to find a place we could settle into. We made more friends in a couple months than we did in 5 years, there’s been more opportunity here, and the community is great. But the house and neighborhood feel tight.

    Thank you for sharing. This story really hit home. And best of luck to you and your family!

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    1. Dear new friend,
      Thank you so much for your message. I can feel the love and emotion in your words—the beauty of that first dream home in Indiana, and also the strength it took to start again in Georgia.

      It means a lot to know that my story resonated with you. Life sometimes leads us to unexpected places, and even when we lose something special, we often gain something else—new friendships, opportunities, and growth.

      Wishing you and your family continued happiness and peace in your journey. I’m so grateful we’ve connected.

      Regards,
      Georgi

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  8. Thank you for your post! Over 25 years ago, I found my own peace by realizing that life isn’t about having the best car, the most stylish home, or the trendiest clothes. It’s about having what you truly need to be content. When you’re grateful for a roof over your head, a car to get you where you need to go, food on the table, and clean clothes to wear—everything else seems to fall into place. A truly thoughtful and grounding post!

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    1. Hello,
      Thank you so much for your thoughtful words. I couldn’t agree more — peace begins when we stop chasing more and start being grateful for what we already have.
      I’m glad my post resonated with your beautiful perspective.
      Have a great week.
      Regards,
      Georgi

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      1. Absolutely. I’m one of those people who was always running and running, moving and searching. Perhaps in an effort to avoid myself. A lot of energy wasted. At the end of the day, we need to be ok with ourselves. I like your style of writing; very engaging and feels authentic. Thank you!

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  12. When we retired I wished for Naples, Ft Myers area of Florida. The wife of 60 years in November Wanted Bar Harbor, Penobscot bay. ME. We are on the Eastern Shore of MD. Compromise-Compronise- Compromise, our Happy place. 1 acre surrounded by 50 Acres of corn and the occasional Deer, Fox, Turkey and others. Each evening, weather permitting, we sit upon our porch with a glass of Sangiovese Rubican and solve everyone’s problems. Doesn’t get any better.

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    1. Hello,
      What a beautiful picture you’ve painted—of love, compromise, and finding joy in the simple, quiet moments. Sixty years together and still choosing your “happy place” side by side… that’s truly inspiring. And your porch sounds like the perfect spot for both peace and wisdom (with a glass of Sangiovese, of course!). Thank you for sharing this little piece of your world. 🍷🌾🦌
      Have a wonderful weekend.
      Regards,
      Georgi

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  16. This one is difficult for me. You hear all these theories about how you create your own it isn’t outside you, your not responsible for others happiness … on and on…

    I am a twin… my brother 3.0 lbs and i at 3.5 lbs lived in an incubator for months until we reached 5 lbs and could finally go home. We started out in Saskatchewan where temp hit a balmy -50 below 0. His lungs pancreas and heart weren’t completely formed, for me they were different organs… he couldn’t take the cold weather and was in and out of hospital and with a half of one lung, the cause of our first big move to British Columbia and warmer weather. I say first (we moved 51 times) more since. And no I’m not an army brat lol. It was circumstances.

    As a result I internalized happiness i guess… the kids my friend s used to call me Pollyanna (Walt Disney if you’ve not heard of the phenomenon). And so it was.

    if and when life knocked me down I got back up… no it wasn’t without pain excruciating on occasion or with the deepest of sorrows, but after a time, happiness would stand tall once again. I can’t explain how it happened it just did.

    In that i haven’t changed much i think… I feel deeply compasstionately, and give and revel in the happiness of others. They’re truly is more happiness in giving than receiving… not sure about others but when I give, I seem to receive 10 fold what I give… reduces me to tears of joy… knowing I made someone’s day a little brighter happier more joyous.

    I haven’t yet found that place to call home… came near enough i suppose, but I understand the desire to bring happiness and giving the best for and to your family.. a roof food clothing health well being a place to call your own in which you can wrap your arms around your loved ones with a spark of humor… is it perfect… not by a long shot… they’re is no such thing because we aren’t perfect…. but gratitude gracious acceptance appreciation go a long way and count for so much… more as you grow older especially in the materialistic world of 30 second gratification in which we live. If we can share but one moment in time in that bloom of happiness, one or a thousand times, it’s worth it.

    I’m sure the expectations on a man are far different than for women and certainly don’t count any less….

    you are one of those souls whose writing gifts the reader of your experiences thoughts reflections possible outcome s and it’s inclusive which is a great gift in and of itself. Thank you kind sir for all you give not only to us but your family friends and acquaintances because I don’t very much the “buck dogs here” as they say. Until next time, big hugs

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    1. Your words touched me deeply. You have carried so much from the very beginning of your life, and yet somehow you have kept that remarkable ability to find light, to give it, and to help others find it too. I think that is one of the most beautiful forms of strength—not pretending life has not been hard, but choosing, again and again, not to let hardship have the final word.
      I smiled when you said people called you Pollyanna, because what I hear in your story is not denial or naïveté, but courage. You have learned that happiness is not something perfect that appears one day and stays forever. It is something we build in small moments, in gratitude, in kindness, in making someone else’s day a little brighter. And from everything you wrote, you have done that more times than you probably know.
      Thank you for your generous heart, for sharing this part of your story with me, and for your kind words. I have no doubt that the warmth you give to others has made many people feel a little more at home in this world. Big hugs back to you, my friend.

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      1. I. Was concerned I’d shared too much. Said too much. I don’t know a person on this planet that hasn’t asked what an i gets for what is my purpose…I asked and I know countless others who asked… I think I finally have my answer… others receive something from me I didn’t know want aware of giving…I am who I am and don’t pretend otherwise. So your mind words have found a place in my heart that has restored even rewarded the open heart that has been gently offered again and again, wrote often outright rejected discarded as unimportant…I have been given a home note… humbly I tonnage you dessert friend because this is the most valuable moment in time I could ever have received. Big hugs warmly given. Along with a very humble thank you.

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  17. Actually because I’ve lived in D.C. for 17 years, in Moscow for 18 years, and now in Korea for 18 years, people often ask “Where are you from?” That becomes an existential question, and it depends on how I’m feeling, what’s the atmosphere around, who’s asking, what are their assumptions and expectations, the prestige structure, etc. So I often say “New York City” because that’s where I was born and Koreans like to hear a big metropolis they’re familiar with, and when small-town folks I tell them “Martha’s Vineyard Island” because that’s my favorite place and that’s where my folks and my soul are from, and when they seem officious I tell them “Washington D.C.” because they can relate to that. So, it all depends!

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  18. Georgi, your words took me somewhere personal. They reminded me of my mother and the answer she gave every time we asked what she wanted for a birthday, for Christmas, for anything at all—“peace and quiet.”

    Back then, my brothers, sisters, and I would laugh. It sounded so simple it felt almost silly. But time has a way of teaching what youth overlooks. We grew up… and one by one, we came to understand exactly what she meant.

    Before she passed, I asked her if she had ever found that “peace and quiet.” She told me she had—and there was a calm in her voice that said more than words ever could.

    I’m grateful to say I’ve found mine too. And hearing that you’ve found yours brings a genuine smile. In a world that rarely slows down, that kind of peace is no small thing. It might just be the truest goal any of us can reach.

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    1. Thank you so much for sharing this—it truly touched my heart. The way your mother described “peace and quiet” carries so much wisdom, and it’s something we often understand only with time. There’s something incredibly comforting in knowing she found it, and even more beautiful that you have found yours too. It really is one of life’s quiet, truest treasures.
      GK

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    1. That’s a beautiful journey—and a powerful ending. Four states later, and you found your “home”… that says so much. I’m really happy for you, because not everyone gets to feel that. May it always give you peace and strength.
      GK

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