THE FEELING OF HOME
Emilia Gillette
As the Martinmas semester came to an end, I’m sure many other students were similarly imagining what it would feel like when they arrived home – what food they would eat, who they would hug first, what the air would smell like. As an exchange student from Canada, I was envisioning something a little colder. While waiting to board my flight back, I was looking through my camera roll at photos from winters past.
I could almost smell the burning firewood as I sat on the couch, curled up with my cats and reading a book. I could feel the slight warmth of a low, afternoon sun on my frozen cheeks. I could taste the snowflakes falling from the sky that blanket the Muskoka landscape and weigh the evergreen branches down in thick layers. Driving home through this winter wonderland at dawn or dusk can feel otherworldly, as if you’ve been transported into Narnia…minus the talking animals.
For some, home may be a place, like a geographic location. It might be a person, like family or friends. For me, home is a feeling. It’s nostalgia. It’s being utterly at peace while staring a landscape so quiet you can hear the wind whistling through the leafless trees. It’s taking that first sip of hot chocolate after sledding down hills, or skating on a frozen lake outside until your lips are numb. It’s feeling like a small part of a much bigger, beautiful world. And no matter where I am in the world, I will never forget how it feels to be home. What does home mean to you?
This article first appeared in PRISMA, Issue 2.