A friend complained the other day that none of the places we have ever lived in have ever felt home. There is less comfort and in reality, nothing is really the same. The atmosphere is different; I don't have the same things I had at home, or anything similar. I don't have the smell of my grandma's cooking filling the home... I don't have the TFC (Filipino channel) blaring across the hallways. I don't have my sister's bickering filling my ears.. Although I can't say I miss my sister's petty fights.
But at the same time, it feels right. As much as I miss home, I can't imagine ever living there again. As close as I am to my family, I am happy. I love being that mutt, the girl who doesn't have a home, doesn't need to associate a home yet. I like being a floater, going along my way until I reach my goal.
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