Home is waking up to the banging on my mother’s mortar and pestle. I learned it’s the best type of wake up call and I can smell the fried garlic in the wok. It is the bait that reels my little brother and I into the kitchen, where my dad is talking her ear off and she’s ignoring every single word. The food she served us that morning joined the clean plate club.
Home is living in a 180 sq. ft. dorm and rooming with my best friend. She’s taught me to live life— to enjoy the moment and step out of my comfort zone. We’ve had battles with corkscrews and survived sketchy Lyft drivers. We harmonize musical numbers and record each other on social media. She makes the college experience less lonely.
Home is building a gallery of memories and appreciation for the people in my life.
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