This is one of the very few times on this blog, when I write about my personal life. This is what home means to me… I hope you like it… You can drop a comment and tell me what home means to you too !
Over the years, we’ve lived in so many places. Different countries, different cities, different places in the same city…..
With time, and movement, and travel, and school, I’ve come to learn, that home is not a place.
True, it is more often than not in the confines of one place…at least for a while… But the places change, and the memories remain. The people, the memoirs, the smells, the warmth…. That’s what make it home.
I find home in Adomawuraa’s naughty laughter after she’s poured all the milk into her mouth… Or her serious face when she says ‘Grandma, don’t do that!!’ maybe also in her outrageous crying for absolutely no reason at all….
Home is in Ohemaa’s happy face… NO. MATTER. WHAT! Or it’s in Boii’s annoying banter “Nana, I’m definitely taller than you!” Or in that side smile that daddy does when he’s half asleep and you ask him to go to bed.
Home is mommie’s colourful hair, and boho dressing, and Alex’s ‘quiet’ laugh. Her constant giggling that makes no sense. It’s in Dora’s dramatic long chatter, and her dance moves that never change!
Home is in mum’s joyful singing that can easily put you into a happy mood, and in Unyce’s ability to make anything sound animated….
Home is in Daddy’s long ‘things’ that will always happen every time we ask for money “Is it necessary? Your hair looks fine! Ah, what do you need another pair of shoes for?” Lol!
Home is in Yaw’s funny embrace… and in his contagious laughter, and the animated way his face gets contorted when he laughs… It can will make you laugh for no reason!
Home is the smell of his shirts, and the ‘fights’ about shirt and shoe sizes, or most importantly, about wearing shorts! It’s in the way he can be having a normal day-to-day conversation, and still be talking as if he were in a board meeting.
Home is not in Kumasi, or in Tema, or Accra, or in Winneba… Home is not in Ghana or in Malawi, or in Kenya or in the UK…. It’s not in any City or Country known.
Home is where my heart is when I’m trying to study all the many things they expect me to in school. It’s the first thought I have in the morning, when I wake up on Saturday, wishing it was Dad waking me up for Morning Devotions.
It’s in the smell of Coffee, and freshly fried pancakes. Home is Sunday Lunch, when the ‘Omo – Tuo’ is too hot, and I still want to use my hands! It’s in the ‘Ashanti-Man’ bragging that dad does just to make us all laugh “Hw3… wonnim me 3h?!”
It’s where my heart is all the time, no matter how far away I am. Home is where I can be me the most. Home is the best “place” in the world… Where my heart is full, and my soul refreshed…
And for all these and so much more, I can’t stop thanking you, dear God!