Is Home Really That Sweet?

It’s a beautiful feeling when you go to the one place where no matter what time it is, you know that you’re welcome. The place where your five senses are extremely sensitive and all the sensation that this place brings automatically indicate where you are. It felt good going back home today. The smell and the taste of my mother’s cooking, the smooth feeling of my living room couch, the sound of my father watching soccer on TV., and the beautiful sight of my room. Although I did my usual routine when I got there, I found myself looking at everything so closely today. Just how my house has changed in a matter of weeks, but this isn’t a bad thing. Change is good for anything or anyone. But for some reason I found myself looking back to the past. How I felt the first time I moved in to my house. Just thinking about all the years I’ve spent in this house, how my room use to be, how my brother liked certain things in a certain way, and how I would always have to help my mother with everything, which now when I come to think about it brings a smile to my face, just knowing that my mother still depends on me for certain things. “Throw out the garbage” and yet without hesitation I have no problem doing it. Before I would get annoyed doing whatever she asked me to do, but somehow it feels like an honor doing my old jobs. She walks up to me and says “I miss all the noise you use to make, but now it’s so quiet that I make my own noise”. This is cute in a way unless it’s a cry for help (just kidding).
I stood in my room for about an hour and I couldn’t stop looking at my bunk bed where I have a lot of memories. Now don’t get the wrong idea for those who have naughty thoughts. It was just a place where I use to make my fort, the place where no girls were allowed. The place where I would hangout with my brother and we would both sit on the bed while we would play “Crash Bandicoot” On Playstation, until 3 in the morning. My Brother was a great guy. To be quite honest with you, this is the first thing that I think about once I step into my room. There are times when I feel like so much was taken away from me in regards of time but “everything happens for a reason” right? I’ve learned to accept things for the way things are. Overall things are fine, I mean I am living a good life so far but that was the only thing that was taken away from me. If I only had more time, there were so many things that need to ask him, help with and guidance. But the longer I sat in our room the more I realize how I’m becoming more like him. His thoughts, his laughter, his reflexes, his emotions, I am like him so much that it even gets to the point where when I wear a cap a certain way that my mother say “Michael”, do you want to go to the store with me”, takes a second look a realizes that I’m her third child. But I’m not bothered by it. I can still feel the love that she has for him and just being referred to as him is just something that makes me proud to have had a brother like him.
I love my brother, and it just amazes me how I’m become more like him each and everyday. He lives through me and its great knowing that no matter what, he is always looking over me. “Thanks Michael, and don’t stop doing what you do bro, I Miss you. We all do.”