Home

In a warm embrace and gentle affection, I find myself returning to familiar memories. They carry me back to an era I once cherished. Everything is laced with nostalgia— the smell of my mother's whipped butter and cakes baking in the oven, the comforting growl of my father's old engine, weary from countless roads yet faithful enough to keep going, the classic chaos of my sibling's arguments filling the living room, doors slamming in rhythmic defiance, and our family cat meowing persistently outside, certain that someone would eventually open the door. The memories remain crisp and vivid, as though they belong to yesterday.

Somewhere along the way, something changed. I cannot tell when, or how. Everyone seems certain of who I am, except me. They call this place home, yet I often find myself gasping for air within its walls. People mistake it for an ilness, but there's no receipt to keep, no appointment to attend. So I call it a sadness with no name, because I never learn how to register it. Sometimes I wish to fall into a deep slumber, where the pasts still breathe, where everything still felt whole.

Life has settled into a quiet routine, stripped of colour. People move forward. Time moves with them. They take on responsibilities that seem to fit them so naturally. Meanwhile, I remain seated at the same restaurant, watching everyone leave, wondering if I somehow missed the moment I was supposed to stand up and follow.

But then, I saw my child's face. Wide eyes, reflecting complete trust and wonder. In his blood flows mine. I carried him with so much care for nine months, and he now rested so peacefully in my arms, unaware that, to him, I was home. 

Perhaps, nothing was ever taken from me. Perhaps, some blessings simply took the longer road before finding their way home. Perhaps I had been searching for home in the wrong direction all along. It was never behind me. It had been resting quietly in my arms, looking back at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to finally arrive 

And I finally understood—home was never something I had to find. It was something that quietly grew in my arms.

Danga Bay, JB. May 28th