Читать книгу A Day in the City - Mikko Soiniemi - Страница 11

In my life I have heard so many things about what home is. The warm feelings, childhood, your mother country, your home town. No one could ever explain to me, what home means, what is your home. Some people say it is a feeling rather than a place. And I must admit, they are right. At least they are closer to the truth than most people are. It is a feeling, but it is not just a feeling. It is many feelings at the same time, it is a place and the feelings and the people. That is what home is, a moment. It is a moment which you see and feel as home.

Let me tell you what home is for me, it is not a country, it is not a continent. It is far from the city or street I live in. My home is a room, it is not my room. It is a room that belongs to my family, it is in our apartment. It is the living room of our apartment, in which I spent countless hours. It is the place where all the family comes together, after school, university and work. It is where our lives take place. Everything else is unimportant, it is this one room in which we are a family, in which we are more than just solitary creatures living a plain existence. This place is, where we meet, where we share and hate each other – sometimes. The place that I call home is this living room, it has a TV that is always running, it also has a computer which is online permanently. But that is the magic of this room and place and moment, both of them are unimportant. What counts is us, the other things don't even distract us. They are there, but not more. My home is the moment in which I am sitting at the endlessly running computer peeking at the TV and I know everyone is there and will be there forever. My brother is sitting on the sofa after school, which he considers to suck. My sister is reading something and complaining about something. My dad is at work but the phone is ringing, it is him, we all know that. He wants to know what happened today, any news? We all know there are no news, it is all the same, it is perfect. My mother is in the kitchen preparing lunch, she is almost done and tells us to get ready for lunch. We argue what to watch on TV while eating lunch, but it doesn't matter after all, as we will be louder than the TV anyway. I can smell the food, I can hear my brother, the dog is begging for some attention, the sun outside is shining in our not really taken-care-of-yard. It is very warm and we switch on the fan, before we get the ice cubes for our drinks. No one thinks of tomorrow, we are just together, there is no doubt, there is no fear. We will be together like this forever. Many things changed since then, but this will always be home.