Home is my parent’s first house.
There’s a number eight paved into our garage floor. We had an old Panther car and for reasons I haven’t known until now, my father always put a Spider-man sticker to the car. Home is going back from school, changing uniforms, and watching the Power-ranger or Kera Sakti episode. On weekend, I always tried to wake up earlier than everyone (a fact that is a total opposite to what I do now) – just so I can watch Crayon Shin Chan, Doraemon, Ninja Hatori. We had a tiny sofa back then, and we had 2 of our extended family living with us. So every night when we’re watching TV, most of us had to lie down on the floor – a habit that my father and I still continue to do, even when there’s no lack of space anymore.
Home is my parent’s second house.
When life is getting better for both of them. Home is me, decorating my room with a compiled posters of Steven Gerrard and glow-in-the-dark stickers. All. around. my. room. Everywhere. Every time I would wake up at 6 AM, just to move to sleep on the couch, while waiting for my brother to finish taking a shower. Then we’d go together to school. Oh Gosh, I couldn’t believe I used to function at 7 AM for years. Home is when every Sunday, my dad would wake us all up, just so that we could help him wash the cars or fix some broken things. I hated it back then, but now the bitter taste turns sweet. Home is when my mom cooks pecel and rawon – every damn Sunday. It’s when my brothers and I watch Fast Furious 2 and memorize every single line from that movie – the fact that annoys my father to no end.
Home is my first boarding room in Bandung.
You have to know, the first night you live completely alone in a 3×4 meters room – far, far away from home – it’s an unexplainable feeling. You feel scared, alone, yet excited at the same time. But home is when I take an hour nap between classes. It’s when I daydream while looking at the window, overseeing the beauty of Bandung city – day and night. It’s when I turn on the TV and look for a baby channel, whenever I feel it hard to fall asleep. Home is when I pull out some all-nighters because I’m a born nocturnal that works best at night – when the world is at its quietest. Home is me cursing non-stop just because the water heater has been turned off (at 9 PM).
Home is also with you.
We buy some takeaways and eat it together while watching FRIENDS. I put post-it notes here and there, hoping that my message could make your day. We eat durian in the kitchen, and we spend hundreds of hours watching Sherlock, Game of Thrones, Suits, from the DVD player. Home is when we stay awake together, sitting side-to-side in silence, each working on our thesis. But of course, I’m always the last one standing. Home is when we pick up our lecturer just to have a little chat, studying together before an exam, or just to have a sip of Boba tea. Home is when you and I go to school every day to teach these high-school kids about MUN.
Home is my boarding room at Jakarta.
Home is my first attempt in beating the crazy capital city. Home is where I fell in love at the first sight with the room. Where else could I get a queen bed on a boarding house, right? So that’s a home, too. Day in, day out, they see me punching the clocks, finishing all the work assignments, working on my freelance project, struggling to manage a time to handle my scholarship applications. There’s so many different things happening – but that home has been seeing me grow so significantly.
Home is apparently – not a place, right?
Home is series of beautiful moments happening in some period of life – so unbelievably heart-warming that we couldn’t forget those memories even if we try to. In the movie of “Inside Out”, it’s called “Core Memory”.
And I cannot wait, to see more homes awaiting in the future.
Hopefully, our home.
