When does a house become a home?
I was quarantined in a house that wasn’t my own, My mind wandered to the times that these empty rooms echoed with laughter. When Stephanie’s kitchen – as the sign reads as you enter the kitchen – wafted with aromas of house favourites and novice attempts. When the neatly stacked ironing board was frantically used to press uniforms for first days at school to shirts for first impressions. The amounts of fights over the TV remote, switching between channels, settling for a match or a movie? The different spots in the house marked with the names of only some, not to be shared, “hey that’s my spot, move!” the numerous yells. The hot wheels once running in full force now adorn the showcases as remnants of childhood. Showcases decorated with worn off stickers, Stickers that were once selected carefully and sacrificed to mark territory. The mattresses filled with restless anticipation on nights before school picnics. The birthday parties as kids that turned into match nights with friend...