Home!
I always had a love-hate relationship with home. The reasons were rather simple;: lack of freedom, invasion of privacy and my constant need to be left alone. A lot of people would come and tell me about how I would understand what home meant when I was away, and I would laugh; I would laugh at their ignorance, and for not understanding the chaos that home had come to mean. A part of my family was always dysfunctional and not having a sibling that understands you only added to the problem.
So, let me honest here and say, I was delighted to leave home 3 years ago. I was sure I would miss the handful of friends I had, but I was confident that I would finally be at a place that I could call my own. And for the first few months I did. It was a fairy tale and I didn't need a princess to save me anymore. I had all the privacy and freedom I had wished for. Nobody questioned me all the time.
Then, it began to sink in. When this new life had turned old enough for me to sit back and think, I felt lonely. I had all the time I needed now to be alone to myself, and sometimes it helped, but I swear there were many times when I wanted to rush back to my mother and tell her how much i missed sleeping on her lap.
When I went home finally, after 6 months into my stay, and saw them there, oblivious to all that was churning through my mind, it is something that I haven't felt in a longtime. It felt like happiness. When my little nephew decided it would be nice to tear his uncles important papers. After a brief moment of anger, I wondered how much i would miss him when i left!
I remember father telling me not to worry too much when I was leaving. My mother, " We will come to see you soon" she said.
I wish i could tell papa how much i missed him then, that very moment, and how i had found home, only once I had left it behind.

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