
Biker's trail at Nan Liao, Hsinchu, Taiwan
I’ve been asking this question for some time now.
I don’t know where to begin. As kids, we have taught that “home” is where mom, dad and siblings are. True, i agree but some people (that includes me) have chosen to go out of the comfort zone, like 15,000 miles away from we call home, to experience what is life out there, and to feel the biggest irony-we miss everybody we knew, we miss everything we eat. We miss home. Yes. we miss everybody back home.
But, which is way is home?
I don’t know too. It’s a little strange right now, and I don’t want to be responsible for trying to describe ”home” under these circumstances. I am not, at this time, a reliable witness.
I guess, the feeling of being home is not necessarily being ‘there”, physically.
Confusing it may seem, but to us women, home is to have someone they can call their ‘own”. Someone out there to share what happened in a day’s work. i guess it all goes back to the most requisite source of happiness- to be loved and to love. I have been to this kind of situation before. i was “home” for quite some time but it didn’t last that long.
Im not confounded to admit, yes, i have been into a failed relationship before. Both parties have tried hard to worked it out, but i guess there are inevitable things that we are not in command of. There are things that cannot be, no matter how hard you tried.
It’s sad that i needed to leave the solace of my “home”.
Yes, i grieved, cried, resented and bled.
I came across bumping to an old friend who insisted that i need to aver my identity- not to live in the shadow of my past and to begin to love-myself. I was told that its impossible to give love to other people if you forgot to discover yourself first. True, i caged in a relationship that was so good that i forgot how beautiful world out there is, i somehow forgot how to bond with my good friends. The ride was fast that i was seeing everything in a blur, without any pauses. It felt good. Damn love. It felt so good.
And it ended so soon. I never imagined saying goodbye in great pain. After my trips to soggy, dark, murky room lamenting on how world can be unfair, i regained composure, went out and tell the world to welcome me again. The feeling is overwhelming.
These days, i walk with beaming pride that i was once in love with a very fine man, got hurt and scarred and regained myself back. (The man happens to be a good friend of mine these days and a great fan of just about everything i do! *winks*)
And I’m home again.
I guess “home” is where you find happiness, the feeling of belongingness.
I love my job. I’m happy with it.
I love my life.
I love to love.
I love people who, in one way or another, touched my life.
Anywhere is “home”, they say. It’s up to you.

