The Feeling of Home

  

 The Feeling of Home

    

    A square room hidden behind a white door, the light blue wall that doesn’t  match with the furniture which  is arranged in a U-shape. There is a green desk with items that are arranged neatly but still look messy, white shelves are filled with books and collectibles, and a dark brown wardrobe that is cluttered but covered by a brown door. My bedroom, which I call my cave, is pitch black with only a dim light from the lamp, the sweet flowery scent from the candle, and the soft sound of pop music during the day and classical music lulls at night. I got this room which once belonged to my grandmother when I was in grade 7. I love the feeling of silence and freedom I get from being alone in my own room. It relieves tiredness and nervousness that I get during the day. I would spend most of the day in my hard but comfortable bed whether working, reading or relaxing. it’s the only place that I can truly call mine.

    My father is an amazing freelancer who is also the part-time chef of my family. We didn’t spend much time together when I was young but gradually grew closer when I got older since he spent most of the time listening to my complaints about my younger brother that happened on the brown leather couch in the living room. He was always taking care of and worried about me, he often reminded me to eat and rest well when I was working hard or studying for exams. My father is a lovely and playful person who likes to make jokes, tease and hug me when I’m stressed to make me feel better. He was a carefree person who lived a slow life that is different from my mother. My mother, on the other hand, is a busy consultant. She is a workaholic and quite a purist. We don’t see and talk to each other very often since she always works all day. She is strict, has foresight, and is a planner, which makes us fight a lot. Even though I know it’s the way my mother expresses her care and love towards me, because of her different personality, I wasn’t very fond of it. The strangest thing was that when I was having trouble, she was the first person I would ask for advice. It would be a familiar sight in our  family where I would sit on the edge of the bed as my mother sat at her desk with a laptop and speaker listening to me murmur about random things.

    A small alley in the heart of Bangkok is the location of my Catholic private school. The facade of the school is adorned with flowers and the statue of Virgin Mary, and there is often  the sound of chatter that accompanies the bells signaling time for school. The seven-story white building’s hidden statue was the beginning of my high school story. School is where I spent most of my teenage life. I always have to come to school either during summer break or autumn break to study or prepare for activities. The sight of white socks of students as they stepped onto the building was a familiar sight that I could see through the window every morning. A white large classroom filled with neatly arranged desks behind a wooden sliding door is a place where many turbulent events take place. My friends and I tend to hide on the floor during the lunch break to sneak food and snacks we bought from the cafeteria, chatting while playing cards, taking a  nap, or watching movies from the projector. What I love the most about the school is the school festival and Christmas event where my friends and I are free to untie pigtails, set up a booth and decorate the classroom. It’s our favorite moment since we don’t have to endure the  boring lessons. We usually go out to the hallway to make decorations, with the sound of chatter from friends along with the sound of scissors, until we are forced to pack up and walk out of the school under the  sunset .

    I don’t have many friends, but that’s not a problem as long as we are still close and caring for each other. My friends, Grace and Phaknham, have been close since high school. Although we know each other in a strange way for many people, we quickly become close and get along. Grace is like the older sister of the group, she is smart, mature and reliable. She always helps and gives advice on various matters, while Phaknham is bright, lovely, and playful. She is both my partner in crime who loves to tease others, and my little sister who is attentive and observant. We don’t see each other very often because of our busy schedule but we keep updating via group chat and try to find time to meet. When we went on vacation, we like to take videos to keep as memories to rewatch our embarrassing and funny moments. I feel comfortable telling them about my sorrows and problems that I can’t tell my family. They always give comfort, encouragement and tell jokes to make me smile. Their presence makes me feel that the awkwardness and anxiety have vanished like a magic spell. 

    I was brought up protectively by my parents and was taught that humans should be able to do things on their own. That might be one of the reasons why I’m an introvert, skeptical and tend to spend time on my own and try to solve problems on my own. School life allowed me to learn to live with others, to be more dependent on others and to help each other. When I look back I realize that I always received help from others both directly and indirectly. Even myself, now stepping into a new chapter of my life, still always receive my friends’ help, gentle and homely people who let me have some break when I am exhausted by life.