This long week end, I went home. Like usual, I opened the gate using my old key. As I pushed the huge double entrance door, I saw that antique church bell hanging in front of me, untouched since the day I decided to live alone. Since I’ve been eying on that antique church bell since I was 10 as I wanted it to grace my own room, it’s always been the first thing I see whenever I go home. As I walk myself in the foyer heading towards my parents’ room, I went pass the living room and the dinning room, as usual. And like always, the pressure that I left behind rush through me like it missed me for some reason. I shove it off as usual and opened the usual heavy door where I found my parents watching TV together, as usual. I said a little hello and closed the door back and went straight to knock at my brother’s room where I found him and his workmates singing karaoke. I went to the room where me and my other brother share a room, and dropped my stuff down there and joked around with him a bit and went outside. Just like usual, I also played with the little kid that’s often seen running around the house. After that, I ate dinner, took a long hot bath, and tried to go to bed.

Two days after, we went back home to the old house where I grew up to visit our grandma who had been rehabilitating for two months now, after that incident of her attack. As I stared at those old walls, floors, ceilings and stairs, I thought that nothing much changed since the last time I’ve been there too. The only thing that changed were those that lived there – humans and animals alike. Her old gay attendant was replaced by a man who’s supposed to be her female attendant’s brother, and that her security guard who looked like a house boy, gain tons of weight on which, makes me wonder if he could still run if worse comes to worse that he would have the need to chance a burglar or something. Her old maids were still the same people though, while the number of her dogs, probably increased to 7 now, instead of 5. I heard, the other one died too. I kept staring at the usual furnitures, but no matter ho much I stared at them, the feeling wasn’t there anymore. When I sit my the dinning area staring at the Koi paintings at the wall, it made me feel like the old house were I grew up is gone and that it now was a different house.

When I went back to my place, yesterday. I look around it again, after cleaning it. I had a long sigh of relief afterwards. It feels as if I’m home, yet the home was never mine, in the first place.

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  1. For some reason, this post made me really sad. 🙁

    Shannons last blog post..<a href=”http://untilmidnight.net/2008/06/06/uneventful/”” rel=”nofollow”>Uneventful.

  2. uwian na! lol

    Finchs last blog post..<a href=”http://undextrois.wordpress.com/2008/06/06/x/”” rel=”nofollow”>X

  3. well i know how you feel… my family moved around a lot when i was a kid… so there isn’t really one place i can really say is home for me… the term “home” is loosely used by me these days to describe my current place of residence… or a place i like hanging out with… hehe

    sundowndoss last blog post..More on iPhone Gaming…

  4. Beautiful prose. It bites at you when moments like this grip you, doesn’t it, when something out of the mundane just jumps out at you? Something like an existentialist awareness. But though change be painful but inevitable, we do the best we can.

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