i have not been living with family ever since i was 15.
at that time, the whole family decided to move, while i stubbornly insisted that i was gonna continue my study in this hometown where i was born, where i grew up, where i laid my first kiss on.
my dad, being a very moderate man and having the same experience when he had been a teenager to live independently, agreed on my proposal, while my mother tried to hold my decision back whenever possible.
i stayed in a rented room for 2,5 years, the time when i was at my utmost ecstatic life of being a teenager. friends, i had a few, but those few precious friends were the ones who stood by me for every foolish turn i made.
no, don’t get me wrong, drugs and drinks were not my cup of tea, but i was heavily involved in several organizations and extracurricular activities, although the acts still left me far cry from being the popular guy, no thanks to my average look and steering myself away from any sports events.
i was having enormous fun, until my dad was transferred back by his company to take over the office in my hometown.
it was painful process to adjust living together again with one parent, in which eventually my mum and my sis moved back, happily together under one roof situated in a land of a city they love most.
while me, i was the rebellious one who always seeked for opportunity to live as far away from the comfort of home as possible.
when the chance came true six years ago, i couldn’t be happier, and i was more than ready to set my suitcases and pack my stuff, marched to a foreign land, which along the process has been my comfort zone.
there’s no reason for me not treating this rich land as a comfort zone, for it has everything i longed to have. the films, the books, the arts scene, the convenience, everything i consider as a staple of my survival.
my relationship with my parents and sisters have become somewhat static, with a few minutes phone call in a week or two, yet we remain close at heart, we say prayers to one another unknowingly.
whenever i miss home, i could board a plane to go there, although recently, there has not been much to do at home.
apparently, my resistance of staying at home affects much on my sustainability in doing nothing, but sitting comfortably while looking through my past photos.
no, i’ve got to get out, i’ve gotta do more than this, and that leads me to sneak out.
whenever i go back to my home country, seldom i go back to my hometown.
but tonight, for one rare time, i miss them greatly, to the extent of, aptly, being unbearable.
i miss my dad’s tender, firm, comforting words, who still insisted on driving me around whenever i’m home, and the one who insists on following my heart, to do any works with the force inhibited by all our senses, not merely brains, because it only makes us stressed out. being a great man himself, i trust him completely.
i miss my mum’s punchlines, her jokes, her easy-on-life views which make her a great mum any inspiring writers should look upon when they write films or plays with an unusual mom character on them.
i miss my elder sis’ nagging on how she should look best, and i’ve to say that she has such an amazing array of books, as later i do inspection on them myself, i’ve got to admit she has a sensible literary selection.
i miss my younger sis’ bravery in bracing herself out to the streets, the youngest in our family who seems destined knowing what to do to make herself happy, and i felt bad being a big brother who seldom spent much time with her. i know she’s lonely not knowing much about her only brother since i have not lived with her on a daily basis ever since she turned 6, but the time with her is always a jolly one.
and i miss them all.
i haven’t loved them enough.
and it feels like i’ve always needed them around,
yet i feel ashamed to admit that,
for the sake of my shield that goes by the name of:
i miss them.