I am starting to think about those things that I miss from home.

In the words of Sunita Williams, astronaut and explorer of the stars, there glimmers a profound truth about humanity itself: “I am starting to think about those things that I miss from home. Ice cream is definitely one of those things we do not have up here. My favorite is pistachio. I love it with chocolate sauce.” At first, these words may seem lighthearted — a simple craving from space — yet within them lies the tender heartbeat of nostalgia, connection, and the eternal pull of home. It is a reminder that even when one ascends beyond the clouds, beyond the bounds of gravity and the comfort of Earth, the soul still hungers for the small joys that root it to where it began.

In this brief reflection, Sunita Williams speaks as one who has journeyed farther than most — not only across oceans or lands, but into the void where silence itself seems infinite. Surrounded by the wonder of the cosmos, she finds her thoughts turning not to glory or conquest, but to something as humble as a bowl of pistachio ice cream with chocolate sauce. This longing reveals the paradox of human greatness: that even in the most advanced reaches of achievement, we remain bound to the simple, human comforts that remind us of love, of family, of Earth. It is the truth that the ancients also understood — that the further one travels outward, the stronger the yearning inward becomes.

The ancients spoke of this longing as nostos, the yearning for home that defines the soul of the wanderer. In the epic of Odysseus, the hero conquers monsters, gods, and storms, yet his heart aches most not for battle or adventure, but for the smell of the soil of Ithaca, the warmth of his hearth, and the touch of Penelope’s hand. Williams’s words are the echo of that same eternal ache — the knowledge that no matter how far humanity ventures, home remains sacred. The taste of ice cream, the laughter of family, the small rituals of everyday life — these are the quiet anchors of the spirit.

Her mention of “those things that I miss from home” is also a meditation on gratitude. Often, the treasures of life reveal their value only in absence. To miss ice cream in the vast emptiness of space is to rediscover its meaning — not merely as a sweet indulgence, but as a symbol of Earth’s abundance, of shared moments, of sensory joy. The ancient Stoics taught that absence sharpens appreciation. Marcus Aurelius once wrote that the true philosopher finds beauty in ordinary things because he knows how easily they can vanish. Williams’s longing for something as simple as pistachio ice cream reminds us of the fragile, irreplaceable beauty of the small delights we take for granted.

There is also a quiet humility in her confession. Though she commands technology that bridges galaxies, she remains human — vulnerable to emotion, shaped by memory, comforted by flavor. This humility is itself a lesson. The greatest explorers, whether of land, sea, or stars, are those who never forget the world they came from. Like the sailors of old who carried a pouch of home soil aboard their ships, Williams carries Earth in her heart. In doing so, she teaches us that progress need not mean detachment — that even as we ascend into the heavens, we must carry within us reverence for the familiar.

The origin of her words lies not in loneliness, but in recognition: that humanity’s connection to home is not a weakness, but a strength. To miss something is to love it. And in loving the Earth — its food, its air, its people — we remember why we explore at all. Every journey, no matter how grand, begins and ends with the desire to return — to share what was found, to enrich what was left behind. Williams’s longing for a taste of pistachio ice cream is, in truth, a longing for all that is human — for the sweetness of belonging amid the vastness of the unknown.

And so, let her words be a gentle teaching to those who chase ambition or adventure: do not forget the simple things that make you whole. Whether you travel to new lands, build great works, or gaze at the stars, let your heart remain tethered to what is real and kind. Cherish the warmth of shared meals, the laughter in a familiar tongue, the flavors that speak of home. For when the stars are silent and the world seems distant, it is these small, humble memories that remind us of who we are. As Sunita Williams shows us, even among the stars, the soul hungers not for grandeur, but for love — and for the sweetness of home.