Home.

I never realized I could make a home in another country, Mum, but here I am.
I feel safe when I get up and go for a coffee in pajamas or a towel after a shower. The sound of the toilet no longer scares me and the dead spider in the upper left corner of the bathroom doesn't either.

I know exactly how to use the hobs, the quirks of the oven and the whereabouts of every utensil. I know I can knock on his door for a quick meaningful conversation, I can sit and go on about nothing with him.

Jokes are reserved for him and dutch food and general girlie conversation for her. I doubt they will miss me much, but you know what, I will. I will miss them. I will miss this, all of this.

When I come home here and there is talk in the kitchen I know I can easily join them and laugh and joke. Even if their friends are there, they won't mind if I walk in and make food in the same room. Because we all care, we all don't mind. And I know that. When I feel sad I know I could knock on his door. When I can't stop crying I know she would walk in and listen.
Well,
Just so you know, Mum.

                                                  I've found my home.