Where Home Is | Teen Ink

Where Home Is MAG

June 14, 2015
By Anonymous

When people think of home, they think of places where they experience childhood and sketch their sprouting growth on the wall. But for me, I think of my small wooden house perched on the tip of a faraway mountain looking out over the tops of trees. It’s my small wooden house where itty-bitty raindrops on the roof vibrate throughout the house and shake the walls. Where hairy, eight-legged black dots slowly climb the walls and knit intricate patterns. Where I screech as my cousins’ hearty laughter strings through my ears. Beside my small house are stone stairs coated with lightning bolt cracks. Stairs that I like to believe could lead me to the gates of Heaven. My safe haven. Climbing those steps in search of a tranquil place to clear my mind is like entering a whole new dimension. A place where trees race to touch the blue endless sky. Where chickens bob their heads and flap their frizzled feathers. Where an array of fruits – each a different color of the rainbow – tumble onto the luscious green field. Where is home exactly? Far away, in the mountains of the Philippines.


The author's comments:

I wrote this vignette because I miss my hometown very much.


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