It's so scary how fast time flies, and my greatest fear is to lose memories that were created a decade ago. Have been trying hard to recall the past where daddy used to bring me out on Sundays, spending our Sunday mornings going out for breakfast, following that would either be cycling, going to Funan IT mall, watching soccer/Formula 1, or just spending some time with him at home. But somehow all these feels so foreign, so distant, so forgotten... I've discovered that the process of creating memories are so pleasant, so memorable, but on the contrary, the thought of loosing them is altogether so frightening.
Does anyone feel the same way as me?
Perhaps that's the reason why I enjoy the feeling of coming home from a foreign land so much, more than the trip itself. Maybe the nostalgia of home as you walk down the arrival hall that says "Welcome Home" could remind me of what my home feels like, or what it used to be like. Probably this could be the panacea for mnemophobia?
But then again, what is home really? Is it an environment where my family resides? A place where memories are forged? Or both? Or something else not confined by our physical space-time continuum - spiritual realm?
I'm not sure really, but as of now, I can only thank Him for the countless blessings that He has poured out onto this family and that He is really really faithful to His children, knowing full well that He is my loving Father and that He is the head of the home I treasure so dearly.
With that, I guess what best defines home would be...
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