Every year, after the winter semester ends, I typically ride home in my grey Nissan Sentra, from Kelowna to Coquitlam. It takes around four and half hours to get from Kelowna to Coquitlam on the almost deserted highway, and along the trip, as I approach closer to home, memories flood the mind. I see signs of the amount of distance it takes to get to a city, and every time I see Coquitlam and the amount of kilometers it takes to get there, becoming fewer and fewer, I think about the excitement and thrill of seeing family and friends once again. I think about the concrete plans me and my family and friends have already planned out, and to build on the relationships, I’ve lost strength on.
Kilometer by kilometer, landmark by landmark, town by town, I think about how to make my visit back to Coquitlam, even better then it will already be; and as the years go by, and as I grow older, I think about the dwindling of opportunities for visits like this in the future. Seize the opportunity, I’ve been told, and I fear, when I look back on my visits to Coquitlam, that I did not seize enough of the opportunity. I want a lifetime of memories and experiences that when I grow old, and unable to live life to the fullest, I want to look back on the days in which I was younger with a life ahead of me, and not have regrets. I don’t want a few good memories; I want amazing stories, for almost every day for when I was in Coquitlam. It’s unrealistic to think that the next day, will better than the last one, but I can still aspire for this.
As the turn off approaches, and I reach the end of my trip on the highway, and onto to familiar neighbourhoods streets, a sense of home sets to kick in. My journey, to travel back home approaches its end, and now a new chapter in my life begins. While it is a brief chapter, that has next chapter on the horizon, it still however, is the most anticipated chapter. It’s the chapter that hits the reader home, and connects the reader with a sense of identification. I begin to remember familiar streets, just like I was a child again, riding in the back of my mother’s car. I remember visiting familiar shops and stores with my friends and family and seeing the houses that almost look untouched since last time I visited. The memories and experiences of being home and seeing where I grew up, rush to the mind. Every turn, every light and every road, is one filled with familiarity and comfort. I’m not in a town, away from my family and friends, as I start a new life, a new chapter, but instead I’m home again, a place where as long as my family and friends still live there, I’ll be sure to come back to.
As I approach my parent’s driveway, and ease the car behind my parent’s car, I finally reach home. I see the short cubic like front yard, the brick-layered walkway, and the tall hedges that gives privacy to around the house. Sights and familiar cars pass by the house, and it feels like I’ve never even left. When I finally walk in with my suitcase and greet my family and cat, and say my greeting and receive my welcoming does the embracement of home overcomes me. Jubilant celebration and inclusion overwhelm me. As I walk up stairs and put my suitcase away in my un touched room and with all my childhood memories still kept in my room, does the feeling of love, family and home touches me.
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