Home Is Where the Heart Is

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Nostalgia is one sensation I am too familiar with especially when I depart my family for school with an absence spell of a little over a month, usually. Pain, from the creative whip of separation is a feeling I do not reject in the case of my family and friends. I do grab mementos, internalize the feelings, allowing it to grip me in a fashion beyond words can conjure as I miss the breeze blowing against my skin in the corner of my room, the abode, loved ones’ demonstrative affections and unforgettable signatory colloquials with the sobering tendencies of honest reproofs and the corporeal assurances of seeing the ones you cherish, the wicked fumes of the kerosene stove as soon as it is snuffed out and the always special meals. Good Lord!.
After I left Ibadan for the Federal Capital Territory Abuja (a 400km road trip to forget) in April to partake in the mandatory national youth integration service, I knew I would be away for a long, long while with my luggage heavy like one of  Hannibal’s raft at the battle of Rhone Crossing. When duty bespeaks preparation….
So here am I, alone. Not least the kind of solitude I admire and appreciate but I expect to be fine as long as my fecund space subsists without prevailing threats. It is more than a soul-search quest into an expanse, more than fine-tuning purpose, and way beyond affirming values. And surely it extends farther than a mere arsenal upgrade. Space is ace indeed. 
For me home is the people, the souls- the hearts that beat for me propelling a simple proclivity to yearn. It is where the love is. My stably anchor in a strange storm.
Joy shadows a nostalgically charged moment highlighting the expressive duality of this phenomenon. The joy is of freedom trickling from solitude again, knowing you are set to make yourself proud in your own face without anyone’s supervision from Home- talk about a caterpillar hitting its last metamorphic stage.   
It said that you cannot take the country out of the boy when you take him out of the country, I find Home inseparable from me because it built my core values and so long I relate with the world from my dependable perception, I have a sense of security.
Even though remembering home might be smeared with pain, it is certainly not where the hatred is.

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