This is my third essay, touching a bit about my family, just a wee bit. I was still in the Uncharted fever, you'll see, it's abundantly clear. This isn't as good as the ones before. Anyway, here you go...
HOME
JANUARY 2012
"Home is where the heart
is", says a cartoon character from my colourful years of childhood. I
agree, home is not exactly a house or a sturdy structure. Home is where you
grow up, where you are comfortable even if everyone else is not, where you take
shelter when the whole world is against you, where you find the ones who love
you the most.
Ever since I got my job, I rarely go
back home. I've seen and learned so much, from the ruins of Machu Picchu
nestled in the mountains of Peru to the city of Petra that is etched on the
side of the hills of Jordan. But, right now, I'm longing to be back in the arms
of my family at home. Just one more job.
Think
of me as a modern Indiana Jones, an antiquities retriever, working for museums
around the globe, some legitimate, others not so much. The truth is I'm sick
and tired of this life and I just want to live a normal life back home.
There it was, a golden idol worth
hundreds of dollars shining through the opening of the cave where sunlight
could sneak in. All I have to do was squeeze myself through a crevice
separating me from the priceless artifact. Despite the fact that I'm
claustrophobic, I made it through with ease. Let's just hope that there's no
trap. I took baby steps until I reached the artifact, hoping that nothing will
jump at me out of the blue. I took the treasure carefully. Holding it in my
palms, I'm elated at the fact that I will be home soon. Sooner than I thought.
I rang the doorbell twice before I
saw a couple of silhouettes moving inside the same house that was very familiar
and yet strangely different. As the door opened, I saw Mom and Dad with a glint
of happiness in their eyes. They welcomed me warmly. As we sat down for a chat,
my cat pounced on my lap and purred silently. Home has never looked and felt
better. A few minutes later, my younger sister came out of her room. I could
tell that she was very surprised to see me. After dinner, we shared stories
about our lives although I was a bit secretive about whom I was working for. My
family called me a treasure hunter but I just laughed at the thought of wearing
a fedora and carrying a whip even though I knew that it was partially true.
The next day, I decided to stay at
home and just enjoy the little things I never came to appreciate when I was growing
up. Things ranging from Mom's exquisite pastries she makes on a daily basis,
Dad's obsession with go-kart even though he was getting way too old for it to
my sister and the obnoxious music she listens to. That is a home. Homes are not
brick-built, instead they are created and fostered by the people who live in
them. All those wondrous vistas when I was globetrotting still cannot match the
ambience at home. P, B and J Otter are right, home is where the heart is.
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