On being home

Denica is home, baby. Arrived last week-ish, been preoccupied with writing paper. The only break I'm getting is now, when waiting for my supervisor's comments.

How is it like to finally be home?

Funny. Everything is the same as how I left it. Makes me feel I've been timetravelling back to before I left for Holland.

What amuses me is my 'first' re-experiences with some stuff. First time I stepped back into my room. The smell. The big bed. The soft plush stuffed toys. The big wardrobe. The convinience of having me own bathroom.

First time I touched my piano. How I just sat and stared at the keys. Feels weird. Really weird.

First time running on the treadmill again. Feels awkward. Havent been running in a straight, smooth line sheltered like that for 8 months.

First time coming out of the airport, seeing the looks on Ma and Pa. (Yes, my siblings found me coming home not a good enough reason to get off from their beds. Lazy bastards.) The ear-to-ear smile.

First time eating without having to cook. First time not having to clean my own room. First time driving again. First time not having to paddle to go somewhere. First time not wearing jeans for a whole week now. Nor coats. Nor anything that's basic function is intended to give you warmth.

First time knowing that your family is just in the next room.

First time missing Rotterdam. First time missing those freakshows. First time missing my kboxing practices and Wednesday rituals of biking back and forth with hunger and tiredness. First time missing how I like my eggs boiled. First time missing shopping for food from nearby Albert Heijn. First time missing lectures. First time missing going to the local pubs.

I guess there is the good and the bad part of any places, any where you are. Guess all you can do is make the most of now, because with absolute certainty am I certain that I will miss this hot, humid city once I'm biking in rain and wind.