Funny thing how we spend our teenage years (and some of us even beyond that) wishing, wanting, praying for the moment when we get to leave home – the moment of liberation, the moment when we finally get to make our own decisions and we don’t have to answer to anyone anymore for where we go out, how long we stay out, the amount of coffee we drink or how much junk food we eat, how little sleep we get and who we hang out with.
I said funny. Why funny? Because when we’re finally out there in the big bad world, all on our own and we find ourselves confronted with the hardships of what being an adult means…well, one of the first things (if not the very first thing) that we start longing for is to go back home.
Yes, I’ve been longing for home. My visits home have become more on the sparse side. But deep down I’ve been missing being home. Home is comfort. It’s where you can do nothing at all but watch the clouds pass by in the sky. Play with your dog. Read. Not notice how time rushes by. Home is where mom is. It’s where you get spoiled and pampered – thank you, mom! It’s where you can mess up, but your mistakes will still be forgiven. Home compares to nothing in this whole wide world.
Home. My escape.