Ever since I was a kid, I knew my home wasn’t like any other. I guess everyone thinks that about their own homes, but my home has always been a physical manifestation of my family. Just look around and you know who we are, and how we live. And I assure you, you are not going to find a home and a family like this anywhere else.
I’m not sure quite how to describe my home. I know how it feels, but that’s not something you can really put into words.
Every time I’m overseas I might not miss Singapore. I might not miss the overcrowding, the fast-paced, high-pressure life. I might not miss the lack of a work-life balance or the intense tropical heat. But I always miss the feeling of being home. Hanging out in my own room singing along to the iTunes, knowing that I can just barge into my mum’s room at any time brandishing whatever new video I’ve found on YouTube.
I guess no matter how much you like travel and adventure and new experiences a part of you will always long for the familiar, the comfort zone. My room in my home is my comfort zone. My books, my DVDs, my computer… I could stay in here forever (or as long as I’m not hungry and the Internet works).
“Hey Mum, can my friends come for dinner?”
“It depends… do they have their own plates and cutlery?”
We live a fairly crazy, boho-sort of life in our home. Because our kitchen table is always so cluttered, we never eat together at the same time. This, combined with the mysterious loss of forks and spoons, and the careless breaking of plates, has caused our meal-time habits to evolve into eating in shifts, usually two at a time. Two will eat, and then refill the plates out of the pots on the stove, and pass it on to the other two. Thus my family of four survives on two or three sets of cutlery, two (big) plates and 3 bowls.
So yes, my home is very special.
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