Home

What's home to you? It used to be much simpler back then, when we were younger...when the meaning of home was just parallel with safe environment, family, freedom and the likes of them. To me it was a shield from the outside world. To me, it was another world where I had it as my escapism from school and strangers. To me, it was where I was most familiar in, where I took my showers, slept in, had my meals, watched my TV, played pretends with my sister, rest assured that I was safe with the adults handling everything, and where freedom was glorified. People say house is just a place, and home is where your family is. I partially agree, though I also agree that the best parts about a home are the contents in that home - the people under that roof, the things contained under that roof, and the events happening under that roof. The laughter, the cries, the coffee, the meals cooked, the worries, the private jokes shared, the fights, the apologies, the forgiveness, the confessions of embarrassing encounters, even good and bad news shared.
Things change inevitably when kids grow up and start having their own life. They start having their own interests, careers, priorities, and things just change... It makes you remember the last time something had taken place...something which couldn't possibly happen anymore, neither in the present nor in the future. It ticks, making you realize, "shit, that was the last time it could possibly happen", and you realize that every moment is indeed precious. We have this natural denial in us that things end. Things do end. They really do.
That's why the present is in fact already a present for us, which we must be thankful for.