Never so much has been written about the nomad lifestyle as today. The space previously allocated on the Internet for cats and dogs wearing silly hats is now being taken over by backpackers and remote workers writing for travel blog services about how you should travel, sell all of your possessions and embrace the endless possibilities of being anywhere and everywhere at the same time. The idea of home is on the move.

Couchsurfing and Airbnb are booming, as well as traveling blogs with stories about these thirsty, independent heroes that manage to travel the world fearlessly, making and unmaking friendships, leaving families behind, spreading a little bit of their cultural butter into the world’s biggest melting pot.

And yet, there is one little pattern that still remains constant.

A pattern that we’re all familiar with in many different ways, even the ones who don’t travel around. The context for this pattern always differs, but the words are always the same. When we’re out and things don’t go according to plan, or they reach a certain degree of discomfort, the following words are muttered, no more, no less:

”I just want to go home.”

You’ve seen it everywhere. After a lost flight; when someone gets a stomach virus in a foreign country; being lost on a B road in the mountains for hours; the possibility of spending the night in the street because your Airbnb host cancelled on you and you have nowhere to stay… No matter where people are or what their concept of a home his, there’s always this one place, somewhere, with or without someone there waiting, that we all think of when things don’t turn out our way, even if just for one brief moment.

”Really, just take me home.”

We often forget that this is okay. Sometimes, we forget about this one place where once in a while, in a very human, genuine heartfelt moment, it’s okay to say these words.