Kicking the home out of me

3 weeks ago, I was in the city where I knew as my hometown. Not that I grew up there or had a proud "Izmir nationalism" as a friend of mine calls it but just because my parents decided to move to that Aegean city more than 15 years ago.

I remember the times when as a teenager studying at a boarding school that I was expected to "come home" in every single holiday. We never agreed on it. It was just what everyone else was doing.

As years passed on, breaking the rule of going home in every single holiday meant independence to me. I found home in being away from it. That's how I made myself as I know today. The more I became more of a someone I long to be, the less open were the arms of that home for me. And they all shut in the end.

But maybe, being locked out of those arms is the guarantee of deeper breaths. Maybe, needing to search for a hotel to stay in your hometown means that you are blessed to be who you are.

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