What I Call Home

What I call home is a quiet little house filled with beautiful people,
It has everything a home has and more.

What I call home has mornings filled with the sounds of birds and the sound of my mother as she talks to everyone

When I wake up in my home, it is to the sound of my mother trying to wake me up And my father getting ready to leave for his work.

They let me sleep till they are ready to take on a new challenge – me!

When I see my home, I feel the familiarity of a lifetime, a feeling of coming back to something that has always been mine

I come back to my home to the comfort and warmth that the world outside the door cannot give.

I see my home and I feel my stiffened-up shoulders loosening up and the head that was held high all day finding the familiar bed to rest on

What I call home has a familiar morning routine and a picturesque breakfast with my father sitting with newspaper and breakfast and the scent of his familiar soap wafting lazily in the living room mixed with the fresh hot breakfast and my mother sitting next to me

I crawl on my knees in that familiar space which now feels huge and unreachable but sometime in the future it is going to look small and tiny because I will grow up

What I call my home is usually full of people in the evening because we don’t lock up our doors and even if we fight with our neighbors, we don’t hold grudges.

All of our neighbors come to my home because it is evening and they have time and they want to play with little me

We like to have people in our home and we like to smile and talk about trivial things because, in a few years, we would have many devices but nothing to talk about

We sit and talk to each other and play and have fun with each other because right now, our hands are not cuffed to our devices

I try to reach for things that are not reachable and I stumble and I fumble and I fall and I cry and someone always comes to me

They run to me when I fall and they support me and I don’t realize that support is not going to be there forever because I am happy to be in the present

What I call home is a bunch of those familiar fragrances – the fresh cold morning air, the sweet scent of my mother’s long and washed hair, the smell of freshly printed newspaper with its crispy sound and my father’s soap, the gentle fragrance of water and freshly cleaned floors of my home because I like to taste everything that’s on the floor

My home is also filled with delicious fragrance of hot soil when sprayed with first rain and it is also that familiar quiet scent of holy basil

I know my little bag of toys which accompanies me every day and somehow always appears in front of me and when I am busy with my little toys, my mother disappears but comes back with food

The food is cooked in my home and it has the familiar taste and we have not spoiled our tongues to taste something new by ordering outside food every day because we cook at home

When I think of my home, I think of the simple but good food which is very different from the good looking but bad tasting food on apps

We don’t need a distraction of television or phone during our lunch because we are happy to spend time with each other and it’s not fancy but it’s a satisfying lunch

What I call home is the evening prayers that my parents recite with me in their lap – not knowing anything but feeling safe and secure

The sound of the bells amuses me and I see the light next to our Gods and I am reminded of our relations being just as bright

What I call home is a place slightly better than the Lord’s abode for I am being loved here better than God would ever love me

What I call home is a place of solace and peace and familiar tranquility that gives me an irresistible urge to come back. To come back to a place, I can call mine.