Home is...

Home is being woken up by a rooster even though I live in the middle of town. It’s the smell of bacon in the morning. It’s the fresh laundry. My sister unpacking my suitcase for me and the time I have to wait for the phone while my brother talks to his girlfriend. And It’s about wasting his time later by watching the finale of Teen Wolf with her.

Home is watching Glee with Lisa until midnight, while enjoying the pink cocktails my mom threw together. The pink cocktail that is spilled all over bed about 10 minutes later. It’s the hours I actually spent sleeping. Home is going for a hike with a friend and her Chou chow and then having to wrestle that Chou chow into the shower to wash all the swamp mud off.

Litte Luna in the shower.

The home-cooked meals and the take-aways from McD’s. It’s the sushi days and cocktail nights. It’s my Ouma’s cakes and home-made fudge. It’s the questions about my love life. The “Aren’t there any nice boys at Rhodes?” The nights sokke-ing at a club. The expensive drinks that make me miss the Rat. It’s about flirting with the cute bartenders. It’s about being bounced from a club for not having my ID for the time in years.

Home is sitting in the rain to watch my favourite rugby team play. It’s the lame Afrikaans music; the biltong; the old men shouting instructions to the team from the stands. It’s cheering for my team even though I don’t understand all the rules. Home is the group of Afrikaans Matric boys destroying our kitchen at 10am in search of food. It’s about watching a cute movie in the cinema for the first time in over a year.

Home is driving around town with our music blasting loud enough to make the people in the cars next to us stare. It’s mine and Ashmina’s rendition of “Drops of Jupiter.” It’s drinking wine with pilots and listening to their flying stories around an unlit fireplace. It’s the fake horror movies we film on Ash’s Iphone. It’s the lame pick-up lines Ash and I thought up. “Hey! I didn’t know you were back from exchange?!” The dysfunctional days with Ash, where everything goes wrong, but they’re great anyway. ‘Elri, I just broke my lamp.”

 It’s the days spent in bed reading books and watching the whole of season 7 of Dexter. The silly games my friends and I have been playing for years and can’t seem to stop. The new haircuts, new buildings and other changes that crop up when I’m gone. The girl’s nights, with wine, cheesy movies and general gossip. The secrets worth telling only those that have known you long enough to truly care.

Home is Sunday night church services worshipping a God I don’t understand, but love anyway. Home is my sister’s unrelenting faith. It’s my brother’s constant humour despite the fact we both had to study during vac.

Home is house warmings and soft carpets. It’s listening to old songs with even older friends. It’s the random moments with my siblings and a certain green sponge. It’s the nights that William passes out on my bed and refuses to leave. The nights that we go out dressed in Grahamstown chic. a.k.a Bloem shabby. Home means going to watch U/14 hockey in the middle of a hot day. The perfect hug from a good friend. Home is about ex loves and old flames. It’s about the memories. The nostalgia.

Home is the way in which the months that I have been gone seem to fall way. It’s the familiarity, the comfort, the safety. Even if that safety is behind the newly installed security alarms that my dad forgot to tell me about.