Friday, August 5, 2016

What I Miss About Home

Some of you may know: while I've lived in London for the past five years (!! time passes too quickly), I'm not actually from the UK. Home is a 13 hour flight away, in the tropics where it's hot all year round, with terrifying rainstorms and amazing food.

It's just under a month since we're back in London and every day more makes me miss it even more... which is a bittersweet feeling, because you only really treasure simple things when you don't have it in front of you huh?

I taught myself how to swim in this pool - we moved here when I was 10, and I would spend my holidays and weekends swimming, sometimes even when it rained, often with my dad after he came home from work. It often felt like I was in a resort retreat, because there's so much greenery and a golf course next door! I had a hard time convincing my friends to come over though, because pre-driving everyone didn't know where we lived so I always ended up hanging out alone (only child problems) and having long scooter rides around the apartment grounds...

I miss those weekends when I was very much younger, on the weekends, drinking blue pepsi – my mama called it toilet cleaner solution to deter us but I still drank it till it turned my tongue blue - going on the swings, cycling around and then one summer spent almost every day running with my friend Erik to 'get fit'.

A lot of almost-kisses, full heartaches, crying, and a half lifetime of joy - this is what I miss in the absence of eternal humid summer, knees on my cold tiles in the middle of the night with my inherited typewriter. I wrote and wrote and wrote, and words flowed endlessly from my fingertips to the ribbon clacking away. Running home during the deepest of winter in July (when I moved to Melbourne) was a comfort and a treat, being an always outsider because I was nowhere here nor there.

Ten years ago, I was still in school, I met my best friend and we were the cool kids - reading Neruda and Marquez, citing Proust (ha) and ee cummings (my favourite still), what I wouldn't give to relive these small moments had it not for the 8h time difference and her working 12-hour days as a doctor (so proud!).

Not in chronological order -

My mama made a rich chocolate cake once and made me finish it all not knowing I am severely lactose intolerant, despite my protestations and then I had to spend the next two hours on the sofa trying to digest it in my aching stomach. And despite that, home is buttery chocolate cake, bad Mexican food with Hannah, gossiping with Erik and the infamous Chinese New Year parties (wild kids we were). Driving with a bottle of wine and the horrible night at a darts bar, whiskey nights, pan mee, doing an open mic night and it goes on and on and on....

And above all, I miss the magic of the people, the nearest and the dearest, the boldest and the best. And for that I'm so grateful to have spent time with them, and relive it through enduring moments in my mind.

Cue my contemplative picture:

Tell me your stories about home, I would love to hear it :-) have a great weekend, friends!
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