Home feels different....

Home is supposed to be a familiar space. A place where you can find your way around blindfolded, right? 

You know where everything is, you run on muscle memory. When you pick up something from the floor or the sofa, you know where exactly it must go.

But returning home this time felt strange. 

I had to ask mom to find anything: "Mom, where's the wash basin?" "Is there a toilet outdoors?" (thanks to my Dad's ongoing renovation projects!) "Where are the plates?" "Where do I throw this?" "Which pan are you talking about?" "Where do I hang my clothes?"...

Every moment I was reminded how long I was separated from home. 

How I hardly knew anything in my own home. How I was a total stranger in a space that should feel like second skin. 

It was like everyone had moved on, while my "mental map" is frozen in the past. 

Damn, at times I even felt like I was intruding on someone's personal space.

Psychology calls this "the grief of losing spatial belonging". I don't know if this is normal or just my perplexity speaking. 

But not knowing your way around your own house is a deeply unsettling, confusing, and hard-hitting feeling.

It’s a strange realization that life didn’t pause just because I wasn't there to witness it. 

My home has evolved into someone else's current reality, and I’m searching for a door that no longer exists. 

It’s like trying to shake hands with a ghost...