About homes and other scary things

I find it funny how I talk about holidays when I am in my last summer holiday. How should I call them then? Vacations? Neah, holiday just sounds better. It’s been a week since I came back from my holiday and for the first time since I moved in Cluj this place finally feels like HOME. Before I used to say I have a lot of homes – Mom’s house was home, the place I live in more than nine months a year was also called home, but right now this place is the only home.

I went on my holiday to Mom’s house, in the small town I was born in. That place was clean, bright and my room was the same, but something was missing – that “home-feeling” wasn’t there anymore. I didn’t even unpack. It was just like sitting in a nice hotel, surrounded by family, eating grandma’s delicious food. Then I returned to this little room with bad electricity system, broken sink in the kitchen and a lot of mess everywhere. Yet, this place feels like home. It seems I can’t have two homes anymore. Sometimes things just don’t work out, I guess, and I have to adapt to the change.

I had a fun week since I returned home (I had a fun week in my holiday too!), but life wasn’t bright pink or anything like that. After all, there are ups and downs to everything on life. At least this place has that ‘home-feeling’ and I can always feel safe inside no matter how dirty or broken it is. Now I just have to find a part-time job, finish my last year of Uni and then find the perfect job. The future sounds terribly frightening!

But this is going to be the best summer! It’s not just the small apartment that feels like home, it’s the entire city and the people in it.

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