Where Home Is

The time that I decided to say “I wanna go home”, I wanna go home? Where? When there’s no place you can say that I’m home and I want to sleep and eat with warm stories around. Where I can hear “finish your soup before it gets cold”, or perhaps phrases like “how’s your day?” then feeling of being safe and calm after all stating all the things happened in a brief chronological manner. A place to rest without worrying too much about everything, about tomorrow, later, or the haunting future. A place that smells like the scent of calmness after the door opens and welcomes the stressed version of me. A place where I can say this is where I will spend my time having fun during off days. Where I can have my own small private space to think and plan what I will be or which road will I take soon. Where? Or which place? ; Questions that pushes me to wander around and find. To find… what? I don’t know…. Maybe to experience that laughter and the smile that everyone got in the circle next to me just the other day, a table full of happiness, where the head of the herd is saying how he pride he is and how lucky he is to have a kids like that; to get sick and tired of eating alone… to wish that I’m inside that circle… but it’s too bad that I need to bill out and leave because the night is getting deeper and there’s another day to hope and spend that day to work and live.

I saw people living under the bridge, and they got these familiar smiles that I saw from some of my friends, people I encounter every day, and most of the strangers inside a public vehicle. Most of them are rushing to go home, not because of they’re tired but they have this thing that someone’s waiting for them when they stepped on a rug that says welcome, or when they touched the knob to open the door that says “God bless our home”, or someone’s excited to answer the door when they rang the doorbell. They’re also the bunch of people who can discuss the importance of Fridays, Saturdays, and what’s the essence of having a rest day during Sundays. There are some days when I have some rare chances where they share how their household is doing so far, when how some small things seems so silly, and then how some things are so great, there I am… listening, creating a picture of my own version of those scenarios inside my head… smiling secretly feeling happy for them, without any reason why I’m feeling that way. It’s somehow creepy for others to hear, but I don’t know how or why? …Uhmm don’t even have any logical explanation, it just happened inside of me, that vague reaction towards that specific stimuli.

Days that I feel that I wanna say “ dad,,, or mom,,, days are getting difficult for me” , well no one answered back, because the one who heard it is an eight inch wall that I face each time I sit down and rest and tried to stop thinking and worrying too much about what will happen next, to void my mind, and fill it with dreams that often turns into nightmares… like to ask what’s the point of sleeping, if dreaming is so impossible… liquor cures for now but somehow it’s daunting … like what if someday it’s so feeble to numb me and push me to another day of breathing the same cold air. Scared of things that might change and dissolve the safe zone, like to make things so complicated, decisions made without any provision from another set of mind that can see things that I don’t see, where most decisions end up into a horrific fiasco… where most years to survive is something that can be measured by ones and zeroes when it comes to creating one owns happiness, there I am.

Perhaps… home is not a place, it’s a feeling… a warm and a peaceful one, an inspiration to find strength…a blindfold to see things beyond a scary nightmare, where there’s no need to look back since you know that there’s always there to tell you to move forward… when phrases like the best things in life are free can be demarcated…and to find it?… is somewhere your heart feels safe

11 thoughts on “Where Home Is

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