I want to wake up under the comfort of my bed at home. I want to sniff the very nice smell from the kitchen once I woke up. I want to hear the kiddies’ morning cries and songs of Playhouse Disney in the living room. I want to hear my mom’s voice discussing things with my father downstairs. I want to hear my sister’s voice nagging about making up the bed after waking up.
It’s not about how big the place is, how luxurious it might be, situated in elite housing and got huge lawn or whatsoever. It’s about the familiarity, the tranquility, the sense of belonging. It’s this feeling you couldn’t explain nor could you control.
I wonder when will I grow up and stop missing my home so badly. But then I just realize I won’t. Because though I may get higher in length or heavier in weight or even got on my own feet, my home still have this special place in my heart. And it is undoubtedly irreplaceable.
Baiti jannati.
