If there is any vivid loving memory of my past, my childhood home is definitely one of them. Often in my dream, I just live my life as beautifully as I did at that time. As if it was never a past nor a bitterness of longing for the things that will never come back.
I never forget the moment I stepped my feet out of its door for the last time to find out later that we never came back to that home again for the noble reasons my parents made that I actually never regret. That home will still be the same in my dream with all the memories of my childhood. Our family homes after that have never been crafted more deeply in my heart.
Wherever and whenever I go to find a nest, one after another, from the sunny day at my boarding school in Bangka to the cruel winter in Bochum, from the bustling morning of my neighborhood in Pangkalpinang to the chilly morning in Bandung, bittersweet memories of my childhood home is my very own definition of homesick. It always has been and always will be.
Bandung, 9 February 2021.
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