I Miss Home: And I Wish I could Go Back

Photo by image4you on Pixabay (April 28, 2016)

What is home to you?

To some, home is a building where they can relax after a long day of work; to others, home is a place for parties, a place for everyone to have a good time; to others, home is a people, a family, where they all hang out and share memories together.

To me, home is a feeling — that I am safe, that I can let go of everything, and that my heart shines. It’s a security that I can be naked, and still, nobody would judge or hurt me. It could be in my bedroom, with a close friend, or even when I’m alone with my headphones plugged in. Home is where my heart dwells, where it is allowed to open up and express itself.

Honestly, it sucks when my heart’s not allowed to rest or even breathe. It’s like my soul was never allowed to survive, yet survival was mandatory. There’s a hole in my heart that wants to be filled, a voice that wants to be heard. Yet nobody noticed it, and nobody heard it.

Every home I’ve had gave my heart a brief moment to breathe, talk, and share. I felt secure, and every one of them was comforting to me. The only problem, however, is that there’s a limit, that there’s an end to this comfort, that there’s an end to this window, that I never knew who’s going to threaten my heart at any time, that I have to constantly look out and be alert, that I can’t fully rest…

Maybe it’s the desire to be heard, or perhaps it’s the desire to find true comfort, or maybe it’s the desire for proper rest. I searched for the home I’ve been looking for all my life — the ultimate home.

I’ve imagined this ultimate home time after time. A place where I can truly rest, put down my guard, and let my heart talk. I knew it was somewhere, but I couldn’t find it. I knew I’d been there; I just couldn’t remember how to return.

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Actually, I do; we all do.

The times when we were naked, the times when we felt secure and completely protected, the times when our hearts were allowed to breathe…

“Welcome.”

As we’re slowly wrapped around by towels and garments, we all know it deep down — there’s no turning back.

“Naked have we come to this world, and naked shall we return.”

I miss home.