The Paideia Institute's 2025 High School Essay Contest Winner

Why does The Odyssey, and the story of the return home, still matter?

"Odysseus in the Spring" by William Crye

I have never spent much time away from home, but there is a spot on the road where I live—a dip just before my house comes into view—that sticks with me. At the bottom of that dip, I see only the tops of two crabapple trees, covered in white blossoms each spring. Even the slightest breeze carries their sweet fragrance for what feels like miles. I would miss them if I were away. That memory—the trees, the spring air, the promise of home—reminds me of Odysseus longing for Ithaca. Like him, I am transported not just to Mount Neriton or the house where I grew up, but to that intimate center where the pull of home, the shifting sense of identity, and the bonds of family all converge.

Odysseus grappled with these forces many times. Nostalgia, that drive toward homecoming, nostos, pushed him through numerous trials. His longing is so powerful that while reading, I can almost feel the Mediterranean sun and hear the creak of his ship heading toward Ithaca. His home is not my home, but I know what it means to be homesick. Even in our 21st-century cocoons, lost in screens and far from the crashing of the “wine-dark sea,” we recognize that yearning. Odysseus’s journey endures because our hunger for home never fades. Odysseus, master of disguise, reminds us that our identities can feel slippery and shifty, especially when we are far from home. “I am nobody,” he tells the Cyclops. Yet his journey helps him rediscover who he is beneath all the masks. Even Athena praises him as “crafty beyond all mortals,” shining a light on his ability to adapt while never losing sight of Ithaca.

But home is not just a spot marked by latitude and longitude. It is a connection stretched thin by time and absence, testing the quiet strength that Penelope exemplifies more powerfully than any battle scene. Her faithfulness is not simply the act of waiting; it is holding firm when the world threatens to come apart. Penelope’s nightly unraveling of the tapestry is an act of defiance, surely, but also a subtle guide to loyalty. She is showing us how to hold out, to hold home together.

At the core of The Odyssey lies the oikos—the family, the household, the axis around which all else revolves. In the underworld, Odysseus’s mother laments, “only my longing for you, Odysseus… took my own life away,” showing how the need for family makes the heart leap over long distances. The chaos of the suitors, Telemachus’s lonely search for his father—these anecdotes show that home is not merely walls and a roof, but the nest of loving relationships that nurtures our identities.

These days it is easy to scroll through thirty-second delights and forget them as soon as we swipe to the next. It is hard to believe that ancient stories still live. Yet The Odyssey stands as steady as a lighthouse in rough seas. Its themes resonate not because they belong to a distant past, but because they whisper about sacred things we all still want: home, faithfulness, and family. These are the anchors that hold us, no matter how far we drift. That is why Odysseus's journey still matters: in his story, we find echoes of our own. We are all navigating the unknown in search of a place that feels like home.