Home Sweet Home

Isn’t it weird that whenever you’re home for an extended period of time, you’d like to be anywhere but there; but when you’re away for a while, that’s the only place you want to be? Whether it’s the smell of breakfast in the morning, how excited the dogs get when you walk in through the door, the feel of the Egyptian cotton sheets on your bed, or just the sight of your mother’s face—you miss it. The absence of those little things make you appreciate them a little more than usual.

When I’m away from home, I think the first thing I always miss is the comfort of my own bed. And it’s not even like it’s the most comfortable bed in the world—it really isn’t. It’s that familiar smell, the fact that it’s my alone space, and the feeling of this is mine. (Which is kind of funny, since it’s actually Oma’s.)

In the house I live in, there isn’t really anywhere to go, without at least one other person being there. And since the house isn’t very large (like, at all), everybody is always uncomfortably close.

Have I ever mentioned how I have a personal space comfort bubble? I really don’t appreciate it when it’s popped without my permission. I’m dead serious—those who know me know that I can’t deal with clinginess, or people standing too close to me. And it’s not even a claustrophobic thing; it’s more of a personal space thing. (But I do have claustrophobia to a certain degree. I can’t really do closed-pipe slides; I have to mentally prepare myself for that kind of thing.)

Of course there are other things I miss terribly, especially Oma and my dogs, but for some reason, my bedroom (specifically: my bed) was the very first thing that popped up in my head. I guess I enjoy my alone time and space more than most people.

You probably think I’m such a weirdo.

I agree.


Prompt: When you’re away from home, what person, place, or thing do you miss the most?

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