It is the school term, and once again I am away from home on the weekdays. I come back home on Friday night, and return to school on Sunday. I spend much more time in school than at home, and for these four months, my hostel is my home and my roommate is my family.
And suddenly when I am back at home over the weekends, it suddenly feels like a vacation rather than truly being at home. My room, my wardrobe, the kitchen. I’ll only be here for two days a week, sometimes not even that, but I have lived here for so long. And suddenly it doesn’t feel that homely anymore. (And maybe after I graduate, soon I will have my own home, who knows)
This brings back so much nostalgia. I’m reminded that I am growing up, and those who have watched me grow up are growing old. I am no longer innocent, and I am starting to understand “adult” topics. I hold on to money tighter now. I think further than just what is beyond me now. I read between the lines because society is not black and white, unlike childhood. And soon, everything I once thought would stay forever, would not.
Every progression into the next stage of life gives me many experiences and teaches me countless lessons. And one of the biggest lessons I have learnt is that you start to lose your childhood bit by bit, the older you grow. Sounds obvious, but it’s really not that so. I am lying on my bed at home now, but somehow I know that I won’t be here for long — I won’t be home for long. Because one day, we all leave home.
And what is Home? It is not just shelter, food, and warmth. It is where your heart belongs. And perhaps in that sense, my hostel and my roommate; are home.
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