Nobody’s Home
I was 10, everyone was always home. Mom cooking, Dad tending to the orchard, and my brother playing video games in the other room. It felt peaceful and cozy, didn’t it? But I was too busy dreaming about growing up, moving out, and having my own place.
Now, I’m in my 30s. I’ve been away from home for a long time. My brother has too. Mom passed away seven years ago, and Dad remarried three years later. We’ve drifted apart.
I realize those days of living together won’t come back. My brother isn’t just in the other room anymore. We don’t even see each other every day. We live in different cities, and we only connect once in a while using our phones. Dad may still be busy in his orchard, but Mom isn’t in the kitchen anymore. No more playing together, no more breakfasts or family picnics.
I miss that feeling of home, but I can’t turn back time. The house I grew up in is gone now, pieces of it scattered everywhere. It feels like nobody’s home, like the puzzle can never be put back together completely.
And I never go back to that city anymore. Now, I wonder, how can a place feel so familiar and yet so strange at the same time?
