Home, sweet, sweet home

A little past three in the morning, outside, it is pouring with rain. But at least I am home again.

As soon as I got out of the taxi, I could smell the scent of skunks in the neighbourhood. A familiar scent of suburbia, the scent of garbage days, of sweltering summer nights. Home, sweet home.

I brought all the suitcases inside, and sighed in relief. It seems like it's been forever that we've been on the road, lugging our four large pieces of luggage and three smaller sized ones with us as we slowly journeyed eastward. Finally, for the coming few weeks, we can have the comfort and convenience of  being at home. My cosy, little home.

I put mum to bed, made sure she had everything she needed. Within minutes of getting back home, I cleaned the sheets a bit with a lint roller, changed the duvet cover, refreshed the pillows, and took out brand new towels I had bought for her months and months ago, expectant of her visiting someday. And this day has finally come. I sat on my chair and watched her climb into my bed. I could hardly believe it, hardly believe that she is finally here, in my bedroom, in my own little home. I gave her hugs, welcomed her again and again into the little realm I have built up for myself. It was late, but I began already telling her about how I built this and that furniture, and how I painted some of the walls myself (with help from my friend).

She sat on the bed, looked content, perhaps a little troubled by the dust and uncleaniless, but she knows I have been away for almost two months, and she knows why. The calendar on the wall still shows May.

Typical of mum, barely had she entered my home, she started noticing things... cat hair everywhere, piles of paper on the floor, and yes, seeing my bedrooms, she started to talk about feng-shui and how best to (re)arrange the beds.

That is my mum, ever caring, ever nosy. And she will be here with me for three weeks to come.