As a person who was born in a country where everyone looks different from you, or when you’re back at your supposedly “home” yet everything feels unfamiliar, I tend to feel confused on the term “home”. I’ve always considered Nottingham as my true home, only because I spent my childhood there and feel the most familiar with. However when I went back during last year winter; I only just realised Nottingham isn’t home—

It’s the house I stayed in (I will not leak my address for many reasons).

🙂

After staying at a friend’s house for two consecutive nights and not everything going as I thought, I walked with my mother down the path i couldn’t remember more clearly. The uneven ground with multiple new pavement covered on top felt strangely familiar, comforting even. Memories rushed to me, but not enough to make my mind stop.

We crossed the corner and stopped at my old house. My breath hitched in my throat. Same old bricks, same old door. Everything seemed same, yet strange at the same time. The door to the garage had been fixed; the sign next to the front door was gone; the garden looked unruly and wild, as if no one took care of it no more.

That’s when it hit me.

i felt my eyes sting, then my nose felt sour. Before I knew it tears poured down my face. They weren’t happy tears when you see something from the past and you remember the memories of it. Angry, bitter tears they were. It was only to me then I realised how much that old house meant to me. It was pathetic, really, crying over some house. Yet my mind only swirled with one thought:

“How could someone ruin my home?” (note we’ve rented my house and the tenants are 👎)

In a place where people had lighter hair, paler skin, different culture. That house acted as a safe place for the small me that couldn’t get why my classmates would throw odd looks at me. It shielded the small and fragile mind from the cruelty of racism, and instead embraced the child with warmth and comfort. It’s been through so much, and seen so much.

That’s probably why it’s home, the place that can make me cry just upon seeing it because of *everything*.

I don’t think I will forget the tenants, or forgive them. Will I reclaim my home? Yes. When will I do it? I don’t know. I just know that in this messy and chaotic world, I have a place to call home, even when it’s 9459km away.

😯 😛 Here’s a lovely photo taken by me 🙂 😉 

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