Since I was doing my foundation in law, some people that noticed asked me
"Fin, why are you rarely go home?"
"Are you okay not going home for months? It's not that far?"
"You are home less often. If my home is 2 hours away like you, I would've come home every week!"
*I can bet some that asked asked with a thought of that I'm anak derhaka, cause I rarely went home*
Well actually, I don't even have a home. Don't get me wrong. I do have a place to stay and come back to during the semester break or long holidays. But this place, the house that I'm staying and while I'm writing this, isn't home.
I yearn for a home. I long for one. For a place that I feel the utmost comfort on the first step that I enter to, even if I just had a bad day. Thinking that there's a shower with toiletries to destress myself. A kitchen that I, myself own, which I know where everything is placed. And I don't have to feel annoyed with people that throw food into the sink, causing it to be clogged. A rug that gently tickles my feet that I will feel obsessed with folding my feet in it. Small plants or cacti that I'll cared for. A place that doesn't have to be big or fancy, a place that I own. That I can, eventually, claim that it's mine. That's home.
However, I'm grateful for what I'm having now. Considering that there are homeless people and refugees that live in tents. This rezeki or sustenance that He continuously provided to me is always abundant and I'm thankful of that.
