"Would you please stop helping your brother by using my money?" Dad's voice boomed. Anger in his voice was obvious. Every time when I went home, there would be a quarrel happen mom and dad. These kinds of quarrel had haunted my mind since I was in primary school.
Sophisticated design, leather seat sofa, lavish but elegant continental decor and even the door would cost an asm and a leg were usually used by the visitors to describe my house. Even though I was part of this family, I felt no compassion. When I was a little boy who supposed to have a happy and no-worry childhood, my life was sunk in the world of quarrel and emptiness,
I hate to go back home since I was in the age of adolescence. My life totally not in equator when I learned to smoke and take drugs. I took these as escapism of my life and in my subconsciousness, I did hope my parents care me and know what I really need in my life. But somehow, the word "home" was strange to me and a lovely family seemed more like a dream than reality,
Finally, dad found the situation getting unbearable and with Hobson's choice, he chose to send me to foreign country, With a profound sense of elation overwhelmed me, I went to UK my own self. And of course, with a mad of credit cards too.
I bought an apartment at the most valuable residential area with my credit cards and also luxurious furniture in it. I painted my apartment myself as it was my dream house that I had long.
I started a new life there and turned to a new leaf. I had no more dealing with drugs and smoke anymore, But every time I went home, what greeted me was a dead silence. Sometimes, I even murmured to myself as there was no one listened to me. Home with nobody, was indeed empty.
The emptiness in myself even reached its climax when Christmas was around the corner. One could easily find an image of family go shopping together and pick Christmas present for each other. How I wish this kind of happy moment would happen in my family but I knew that day wouldn't come. My home, soon had become a strong comparison to my neighbors' home which were gaily decorated with tinsel and colourful blinking lights on synthtic plastic tree.
Should I go home? A thought suddenly popped into my mind. Debating within myself, I, nonethelessm chose to go back. I picked up the phone and called mom, telling her that I would go back the next day, Pulling myself together, I started to pack up all the things and also my mind,
The plane finally arrived to the familiar airport. The moment I stepped out from the main door, what greeted me was my mom! Never could I believe that she would come to pick me. I was stunned, at a loss for words. Never for one moment did we think that we could be jolted out of our dream by the harsh realities in life.
"Welcome home, son." I heard a voice behind me. I turned. I could not believe my what I saw. My father was standing at the door, mom was beside him. "Come home with us and we'll work things out together."
"We were wrong to let our emotions rule our senses. I'm sorry, son. I did not even care of your feelings." He walked up to me and put his arms around me, and that point in time, we broke down into tears and hugged each other. Somehow, I knew that all was forgiven and things would work out all right...
Just simply write a story about " Home" in this festival season
Home, I do miss it.
I'll be back 60 days more :)
