“Home is where the heart is,” says a proverb. This might be true. In fact. I have been confused of what I should call “home” ever since I left my first “home”.
Before July 2008, I always thought the place I grew up with my two brothers was my only “home”. Yet, since I entered a boarding school called Madrasah Aliyah Negeri Insan Cendekia Serpong, I started to feel of that place as my “home” as well. I remember saying “oh I gotta go home now” unconsciously every time my once-in-two-weeks break was going to end, even though I was technically at “home”. My mom couldn’t even understand why I chose to hang out with high school friends on long holidays–knowing that I would meet them when school started anyways.
September 2011 marked another beginning of the change in my perspective of “home”. As much as I hate it, I must admit that Beppu city has been my third “home”. Three years there doesn’t automatically make me know everything about the city, but at least I now consider it a comfort zone.
And now that I’m far away from all of my “homes”, should I start being homesick?
(Celebrating two weeks of living in Seoul, three years after flying to Beppu, and six years after meeting my new family at Insan Cendekia)