The pull of home can be strong – even when it is a place you can't remember.
That is how it is for Ahmed, 18. He emerges from a mosque in the heart of Gaziantep in south-east Turkey - not far from the Syrian border - wearing a black T-shirt with 'Syria' written on the front.
His family fled his homeland when he was five years old, but he is planning to return in a year or two at most.
I am impatient to get there, he tells me. I am trying to save money first because wages in Syria are low. Still, he insists the future will be better there.
Syria will be rebuilt and it will be like gold, he says.
If he goes back, he will follow in the footsteps of over half a million Syrians who have left Turkey since the ousting of Syria's long-time dictator, Bashar al-Assad, in December 2024.
Many had been here since 2011, when civil war began devouring their country.
In the years that followed, Turkey became a safe haven, taking in more Syrians than any other country, at one point housing 3.5 million, which caused political tension and occasional xenophobic attacks.
Although no Syrian will officially be forced to leave, some feel pressure from bureaucratic changes and a wavering welcome from the Turkish government.
Civil society organisations are getting the message from the authorities that it's time to go, shares a Syrian woman who prefers to remain unnamed.
I have good Turkish friends. Even they and my neighbours have asked why I am still here. Of course, we will go back, but in an organised way. If we all go back together, it will be chaos.
Aya Mustafa, 32, is eager to go home but insists on waiting. Meeting me under a winter sun by the stone walls of a castle over Gaziantep, she says the idea of returning is a constant topic among her community.
However, she adds, There are many challenges. Many families have kids who were born here and can't even speak Arabic.
In the backdrop, the ruins of Syria – where war has left cities like Aleppo devastated – loom large in their minds. Aya visited her hometown and found her family home occupied by someone else.
It's a big decision to go back to Syria, she reflects, especially with elderly relatives and those with disabilities requiring support and essentials like electricity and water.
She expresses optimism, saying, We believe that day will come. It will take some years [to rebuild]. But in the end, we will see everyone in Syria.
Conversely, another Syrian family, running an aid organization, is more decisive about staying in Turkey, citing ongoing economic and security issues in Syria, including a lack of safety and robust governance.
We have projects inside Syria, but my family and my organization will stay here in Turkey, the father insists firmly.
He notes, The security situation is very bad. Every day there are killings. Regardless of who the victims are, they have souls.
Another couple, Mahmud and Suad who hold Turkish citizenship, find joy in returning—if only for a visit—yet hope to fully settle back in Syria when conditions stabilize.
As more Syrians reflect on their futures, the complexities of returning home entangled with aspirations of rebuilding their lives highlight a vibrant discourse on identity, belonging, and hope amidst chaos.
