After 21 years, I'm finally home.

Home. I’ve never thought that this word would have so many meanings for me as I journeyed on in life.

Growing up, my family and I moved quite a bit – 4 times to be exact. In May of 1998, I was brought home to a small room on the 2^nd floor of a terrace house located in a city in Malaysia called Subang. This was my first home, where I lived during the first 3 years of my life. It was tiny and uncomfortable (for my parents) at times because my parents and I had to share a room. After my sister was born, we moved another 3 times, finally settling in a house we can call our own in Shah Alam, Malaysia. This house was the biggest one I’ve lived in and we no longer had to share rooms. We have a garden and a substantial amount of land for my dog, Simba, to run around. To me, home was a physical building.

My house in Malaysia

Something my late grandpa implemented in the family was to have our dinner together every day. I spent every evening with my entire extended family. About 20 of us would gather at my grandparent’s home to devour in my grandma’s cooking. Their place was just a 2-minute drive from ours, and a 3-minute drive from two of my relative’s place respectively. This was the very reason why I grew so close with all of my cousins. We were each other’s best friends growing up. Birthdays, Christmas, and New Years were celebrated together. So many family traditions were birthed and passed down here, so many life lessons were learned here, and so many memories were made here. To me, home was where my family is.

My cousins and my grandma

In the Fall of 2017 during my sophomore year of college, I decided to continue pursuing my degree in Advertising and Public Relations in America. I packed my bags and left my home with a heavy heart. The opportunities outside of what I knew, however, outweighed the reasons for staying on. At 19, I was out there in the world by myself.

I moved into a college dorm in Selleck Hall. I had to share an 11’x 16’ space with a roommate for an entire year. This dreadfully small room was going to be my home for 12 whole months. It was suffocating, but I had to make it work. My roommate on the other hand, was not the most hygienic. I always came “home” to the smell of overnight leftover ramen. Thankfully, I was only ever home for 8 hours – for bedtime. I found solitude in my fresh-out-of-the-dryer bed sheets to counter the other (occasionally identifiable) scents in my room. To me, home was where my bed is.

After that year, I decided that the college dorm experience was not for me. I knew I wanted my own space, with friends this time. That same year I befriended many of my fellow Malaysian peers. Thanks to the similar experience of being far from home and for having grown up in the same culture with the same frame of reference, we managed to click instantly.

We moved into a four-bedroom apartment unit in Latitude. This time, we had plenty of space. We would spend our free time watching movies, playing board games, or just talking. We shared everything from food to laughter with one another. During major holidays when we could not go back to our families in Malaysia, we felt all the more the importance of sticking together. We needed each other to remind ourselves of what home felt like. Together, we built a home away from home. We found a slice of home in the company of one another. To me, home was where my people were.

Another year goes by and a lot has happened here. I lived here when we had our first big fight, when it got awkward, and when we mended things up; when we still hung out, but not so much anymore. I lived here when I started to doubt my ability to love, and when things got dark. I lived here when I finally found peace in knowing not everyone is meant to stay in your life forever and that changes in life comes with changes in people. I lived here knowing that wherever I was placed, I was there to be taught something, to have my character molded, and to come out of it stronger and with a fresh perspective.

But most importantly, I lived here when I realized the importance of vulnerability in friendships, the kind that is two-sided. I have been blessed with people in this season of my life who are willing to affirm me, encourage me, and rebuke me all at the same time. The same people who I can laugh with, cry with, mourn with, and pray with.

Home isn't just a building or related family members, but friends I could count on. Home is no longer a place or a person, but rather a feeling. Home is a place where I trust people, and where people trust me. Home is a place where I feel understood and known. Home is where I feel safe. To me, home lies within the people that love me.