One-way Ticket Back Please?

I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately.

How I’d wake up in my pink and green walled room, with sunlight piercing through my white blinds. The first thing I would do is go downstairs, make sure all my cats were alive and well-fed, then pick one of them up and enjoy another 15 minutes cuddling a ball of fur. How every morning, my mom made me toast. Usually overly buttered, with a generous spread of marmalade on top, I’d snack on that while laying down on our red sofa scrolling through Instagram thinking where else I would eat next. When there was sunlight back home, my life wasn’t really productive. But as the day ended, I would normally be out with my friends. I remember my dad would tell my relatives the only way to sense whether my bank account was still “alive” was to spot how constant my red car was at home. And I reminisce the times, I would drive back home from Subang or Kuala Lumpur at night. Bass, extra loud, listening to my playlist of hits. How Honne’s Someone That Love You would be on repeat, as I watched the highway lights pass me by. One by one.

 I miss the familiarity. I miss home.