My New Home

“What do you miss about home?”, they ask.
This question used to bring me waves of emotion
endless tides crashing on the shore of my thoughts.
I’d wonder to myself,
with dilemma in the way,
not really sure which door to open
for an answer to come out of me.
Each door opened up to a different time I longed for.
But to be honest,
I was missing the key
the key that would unlock a gate of memories.
Not realizing I had closed the gate,
I felt guilty.
“Home” was what was written on the gate,
and it had been closed for a while.
It had to be closed.
It was for the best.
For me to grow,
to bloom into a new person
it had to be done.
But I could still see home through the window.
Even though I had locked it up,
I could still see all the beautiful memories
replaying through the window of my thoughts.
That felt like home to me
sitting on a comfy sofa,
watching memories of home
through my window like an old film on loop.
I fooled myself.
In the midst of reminiscing,
I heard echoes through the closed door
the one I had chained shut
to make myself stronger.
But the door began to leak
with moments I yearned for.
In a glimpse,
I felt my mother’s warm hug.
I heard my father’s compliments.
I heard my siblings’ laughter.
That’s why I felt guilty.
I had locked the door
to protect myself
but instead,
I began to suffocate.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t hear.
I couldn’t see.
My new home grew darker
day by day.
It was like I was erasing my family
from my memory
in order to be strong.
That’s when I realized
the door had to be opened.
And I knew where the key was.
I had been lying to myself,
pretending I didn’t.
But it was always in my pocket.
I kept it there,
knowing one day
I’d reach back for it.
When I unlocked the door,
I realized:
it’s best to let the breeze in
every now and then
to let the weather change,
to let the past visit,
to make my new home
feel warmer,
cozier.
I need that sunlight
in my new home
the sunlight my family brings
into my life.
Now,
with confidence,
I answer:
“I miss my family.”