I Found My Home

Where is my home? I really didn’t know, Is it in Canada or is it in Hong Kong? I was young; I didn’t understand Why I had to leave the place I called mine, the home I called safe. Why do I have to say goodbye? “My new home in Canada is my home too.” I thought when I first arrived here, Though in my heart, I knew it wasn’t true. I used to think a home was just A place you live in, shelter in, A place you hide from reality in. I took my old home for granted. On the surface, my home in Canada is like any other. The basement is messy with my brother’s Legos, My room is full of only-fiction books, In the study, my dad works and reads about politics, And in the kitchen, my mom cooks mixes of Western and Cantonese cuisine. Most importantly, this home has everything my home in the past does. But years ago, it used to feel empty, unfamiliar and without feeling. Underneath the cover of my seemingly normal home, There’s a tangled knot of emotions my family and I felt. Questioning the decisions of immigrating, Thoughts of, “ Should we have left the home we all grew up in?” But slowly, our hearts uprooted from our old home, And sowed themselves into the home that shielded us from our sorrows. Mostly, the place where my family and I are together. Now I’ve learned that home is a word with millions of definitions. For me, home means love, hope, and family. And you can’t try to find your home If you’re already home. I am home. Thank you Habitat for Humanity For helping to find And define The meaning of home for humankind, Gradually making the world A better place.