Self Story #1 What Home Is To Me

“BEEP! BEEP!” the dreaded sound of my alarm clock wakes me from my sleep, I immediately regret setting the alarm. I sluggishly get out of bed and hit the snooze button rather aggressively as if I’m making a statement to the alarm clock. I hop back into bed and wrap myself back into my cocoon of blankets, it’s roughly 9:30 Sunday morning I’m exhausted from my late night escapades. I know I only have limited time before I have to get up, so I try to enjoy every minute as much as I can.

The time goes by too fast, and before I know it I hear the all too recognizable voices of my Mother and Father conversing on if they should wake me up. I don’t pick up on what my mother says, she’s trying to be silent so she doesn’t wake me up. But I clearly overhear what my dad is saying, it’s one of his classic “dad sayings” as I affectionately call them. He knows I’m already awake so he says it just loud enough for me to hear “if he’s going to party like a man then he’s going to work like a man” there’s no work to be done today, but he just can’t help himself from saying it. Next thing I know the door swings open and I hear the all to familiar wake up greeting from my dad “wake up you lazy bum” he’s trying to sound serious, he always tells me that he’s trying to scare me but I know he’s grinning ear to ear as he says it. I reply wearily “yeah, yeah I’ll hop in the shower right away” this isn’t true at all I intend to stay in bed for at least another ten minutes.

Those ten minutes go by fast and soon enough my mom comes in and gently shakes me awake, she tells me that breakfast is almost ready and that I should jump in the shower. So eventually I slip out of the layers of blankets that are piled on top of me off, I immediately regret this as the cold climate of the house hits me. I think back to the warm snug environment I just left behind and want nothing more than to return to it. I know that I must push through the harsh environment that I have subjected myself to, the reward is too great.

I make the trek across the hall to my bathroom and prepare myself to shower, I think to myself “this won’t be too bad, a nice warm shower will be a great way to wake up”. So, I adjust the temperature just right, let it run for a bit so it can warm up. I jump right in, it hits me. An icy cold rush of water chills my body numb, I can’t breathe, it’s clear I did not set the temperature accurately this happens far too often. I’m blinded by the cold water; my hands are searching for the temperature gauge. I cannot find it, so this is how it ends. At last! My hands grasp onto the gauge and I quickly adjust the temperature and then huddle in the corner while the water warms up. After this harrowing event I dry off and change and head off to the kitchen, I’m immediately hit with the wonderful aroma of; eggs, bacon, and hash browns. My mouth immediately begins to water. I walk in and my parents are already seated digging into the delicious breakfast my dad has prepared. I rush to take my seat and dig into the amazing looking meal and start to shovel it down. My parents know my eating tendencies and wait for me to finish my first helping before engaging me in conversation, but once that first plate is down conversation is fair game. The conversations range from simple topics such as; what I did last night to what I want for dinner that later that night. But conversations can also take a serious note like our talks on current events, politics, religion, the complex Star Wars universe (this is where tempers flare). But it’s these Sunday morning breakfasts’ that make me miss my hometown more than anything, it makes me miss my home. My home is where I can speak my mind and talk about anything, and that’s where my parents are. My parents will always be home to me, it’s where I feel safest and where I can always be myself.