What is home…

Mom: Stop saying Cluj is your home, it’s not. It really hurts me when you do that. I fell like you forgot us and your roots.
Me: Mom if “home” had been a building or a place they wouldn’t have invented the word “house” to begin with. Home is a state of mind, a feeling, the universe that shelters you in a very specific moment.

As I was growing up I could not imagine a place better than the one I was born in, it had everything I needed and more. Thoughts of travelling and change rarely crossed my mind, I was happy with what I had at that moment. But then the time to go to university came and while asking myself “Don’t you think it would be wonderful to get rid of everything and everybody and just go someplace where you don’t know a soul?” something clicked and for some reason everything I felt changed in a matter of seconds. I knew that I had to leave. The inexplicable urge to know more, to feel more, to be more filled up my body and coagulated nowhere else then underneath the solar plexus, so I left.

The mixed feelings I had before coming to Cluj were more confusing than quantum physics and on a second thought I’m sure that the latter would be easier to understand. I craved something new, something different, the novelty of the future surroundings thrilled me even more than Christmas, or a new Game of Thrones episode, but in the same time I felt a rupture, I felt I’m leaving a very big part of my heart there, a part that I won’t be able to get back. It’s like I made a pact with my heart that if I leave the city, I have to leave behind in exchange the things I treasure the most: people. An exchange I wasn’t so sure I’m ready to seal, but I did. And it was one of the best decisions I ever made, because I realised I gained back something evergreen: memories. This thing made the packing a lot easier.

While talking to a childhood friend I said something that surprised me “Home is where the Wi-Fi connects automatically”. It may not sound so Tumblr-ish or inspirational at all, but it felt right at that moment. I was at a cozy coffee house when I found myself sulking over the daze I had during my volunteering project in Szczecin, Poland when I realised that my heart was now filled with cherished memories, and within the moments of reminiscing I felt “home” just like a warm fuzzy feeling, filling me with hope. After that, I understood that moving out would drastically change the perception I have on what” home” means.

To sum up, after getting the travelling bug I realised in the end that the thing I like the most about “home” is that I find aspects of it everywhere I go: the smiles of the people I love, the confidence a hug gives me, the stories the buildings tell, the smell of the rain in the evening, the colours of the sky in the sunset, the breezy wind in the morning and of course the tears I shed because the capacity of my heart is overloaded.

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