This is home

I filled this small house with everything I could bring, blankets books an oven a fridge, everything I need to make this my home, I learned from previous years that it doesn't help thinking this is temporary so no need to think of it as home, because simply if it isn't then where is it? I don't know if all people need one to feel emotionally stable but for me I certainly need one.

I didn't realize how much I needed one until last week when I went to my parents house, which for some reason I considered home and once I stepped there I wanted to leave and just run, it was frightening to acknowledge that this is not my home anymore and it wasn’t for a long time, my home is that small house between those two villages in the middle of Ait Baha mountains.

It felt sad that I'm so disconnected from my family and that I can't open up and communicate what I feel to the people that mean the most to me but at least I'm glad I have a shelter that I grow to love, a place that I worked so hard to get so.

In a way I’m not seeing what’s happening as tragic, it has always been like this, people leaving their parents’ house, seeking independence, but the transition can’t always be smooth, especially in a patriarchy where it feels like disloyalty to have dreams whitout the guardian’s consent, this struggle won't end soon but till then this is home.