When I was invited to write a World View for Nature & Structural Biology, I felt two things simultaneously: honored and nervous. Not nervous about the science, but about the responsibility. I knew I would be writing not just about my own journey, but about something larger: the experience of returning to Central Europe to build a lab, and the community of researchers who have done the same.

There are many chapters I could have shared: logistical puzzles, mentorship lessons, cultural contrasts, even the humor found in reassembling a microscope, screw by screw. And yet, I had to choose. The hardest part was not to write, but what to leave out. In the end, I decided to write the kind of piece I wished I had read a few years ago. Not a dry summary of challenges and opportunities, but a personal message, which will be honest, emotional, and imperfect. Because science is made by people, and the stories that shape our paths are worth telling as they are.

The process of writing the piece made me reflect on how non-linear this journey really is. Returning and rebuilding a scientific career does not happen in a straight line. There are waves—sometimes gentle, often rough. There are the visible milestones, and then there are long, quiet stretches filled with uncertainty. Behind every published article are rejected manuscripts, unfunded proposals, and experiments that did not work. There are moments of doubt when the lab is still half empty, when procurement is delayed for months, when you are not sure if the vision you have will ever become reality. If you are in that place right now, wondering if you are the only one, it is important to know: you are not. I have been there too, and many others as well.

Writing this piece reminded me how much we carry as scientists—not just ideas and data, but also hopes, doubts, and the quiet persistence to keep going. I hope this message reaches someone who needs it. Someone returning. Someone starting out. Someone wondering if their effort matters.

It does.