last month, you asked me to visit you. i haven't been home in a really long time so i thought that this time, i should make time.
so i came to visit a place i've always called my home. it's weird to see how everything changed in this small house. i still remember how my mother organised the kitchen when i was a child but now, i can't even find a glass without searching all the drawers. i don't see the carpet on which my sibling and i played together.
life changes, time flows by.
i know that.
but for a short while i thought:
wow not even home stays the same, right?
and when my parents knew that i was thinking back sadly on my childhood, they placed me on the couch: my mother, bringing me a cup filled with my absolute favourite hot chocolate, and my father, buying me my favourite meal all these years ago.
it's funny to see how for a while i thought that the place i have so many memories of, could turn into a stranded memory. but my parents made me remember why i still call this house, my home.
not because of the cup or the blanket or all the other stuff they kept.
it's because of them. it's because of the way they look at me.
the same look they showed me when i was a child.
the look of home.
thank you for being a place for me to call home.
see you next time.
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