Maya Cole
To me, home isn't a building. Home is 'the moment you're allowed to let your guard down.' And I'm still looking for that moment.
Our house is quiet most of the time. My parents work late, so on a lot of evenings it's just me. At first the silence felt lonely, but now I use that time to do homework, listen to music, and sort out my thoughts. Getting used to it is a little sad and a little bit of a relief, both at once.
So I often find 'the feeling of home' somewhere else. A corner seat in the library, the snack shop I stop at after tutoring, one kind sentence from a friend. When someone asks me, 'How was your day?', that small moment feels like home to me.
Writing this, I realised something: maybe home isn't something you're given — it's something you build. If one day I can be 'a moment someone is allowed to let their guard down' for somebody else, I think that counts as building a home too.

