The moment the plane touched down LCCT yesterday, my heart was in the state of tug of war. On one hand i'm glad to come back to the place which i've slowly grew attached to for the past 4 years; on another hand, i doubt that my heart will ever register this city as a place i can call my home.
It was easy to walk along the old and rugged shops at the street of Kuching's 7th mile and smile from my heart in reminiscence of old schooling days; it was easy to walk hand in hand with my mom, aimlessly in the neighborhood, just to enjoy the sunset and the presence of each other; it was easy to laugh at the silly act of my 29 years old sister and 22 years old brother, running away from the attack of God-knows-what flying insect; it was easy to lie on my bed, while listened to the cooking sound and nagging voice of my mom in the kitchen and felt nothing but contentment in my heart.
It was so easy to feel at home.
Ironically, it was easy to look at the sky scrappers which i've seen more than a million times and still felt totally foreign about it; it was easy to surround by people of different colors in a small cramp lift and suffocated by loneliness; it was easy to feel vulnerable and hurt when the only person i can call my family in this foreign land showed no sign of joy at the sight of me; it was easy to lie on the bed, in the room which i've inhabited for the past one year, and wondering what am i doing here.
It was so easy to feel not at home.
It was easy to walk along the old and rugged shops at the street of Kuching's 7th mile and smile from my heart in reminiscence of old schooling days; it was easy to walk hand in hand with my mom, aimlessly in the neighborhood, just to enjoy the sunset and the presence of each other; it was easy to laugh at the silly act of my 29 years old sister and 22 years old brother, running away from the attack of God-knows-what flying insect; it was easy to lie on my bed, while listened to the cooking sound and nagging voice of my mom in the kitchen and felt nothing but contentment in my heart.
It was so easy to feel at home.
Ironically, it was easy to look at the sky scrappers which i've seen more than a million times and still felt totally foreign about it; it was easy to surround by people of different colors in a small cramp lift and suffocated by loneliness; it was easy to feel vulnerable and hurt when the only person i can call my family in this foreign land showed no sign of joy at the sight of me; it was easy to lie on the bed, in the room which i've inhabited for the past one year, and wondering what am i doing here.
2 comments:
This is just a process.
I sometime feel uneasy with the place which I call home for the past two year. I am doubted is this the place I'm going to spend the rest of my life when I don't feel like being taken care like what my mom did in th epast old days...
hey hey ladies!!!!
so you went home to kuching huh and visit siow chel's little angel i'm sure!!!!
it's good to be home nevertheless. you know i have not been back to kuching for even longer? almost 10 years i have not been back. it's even strange for me to go back to my parent in KL as it have never been my home. in the end, home is where your heart is, and i'm totally at home here, or in KL. just being with my family make me feel home.
btw, i'm going to say bye bye to malaysian soon, i'm going to apply for aus citizenship. will blog about it when it happen.
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