For HKD 1900, I could go home to Nanjing for the weekend.

I have just realized that there is not real place I call home. Wizard of Oz echoed through this vast cavern of consciousness (ok, perhaps less than vast, but it sound good with cavern correct?). There's no place like home. Where is home? Nanjing? I sleep very well there. And eat even better. But is it really home? I'm coddled and cuddled. I make extreme efforts to be nice. I feel guilty when alone doing my own thing, thinking that I need to make the most of this time to keep my grandparents company. Home?

Lie on your bed, just as if you haven't left? No longer quite possible, the place is renovated. The dusty old window frames with the cloudy glass that I used to see every morning are now aluminum frames. It's nicer. . . and easier to clean. But, you know, sometimes, in parts of the world, when I wake up and see the morning glow shining through some cloudy, dusty window framed by thick black frames, it's as if I'm back in my childhood again, and for a moment, I feel safe and utterly content.

Isn't it funny childhood memories? We feel so good when wrapped up in them. I went to Malaysia and ate 山楂片 (Haw Flakes). Didn't even really like them when young. But somehow, they stick more than the 大白兔，or the 旺旺雪并。 I'm sure you got more per packet back then, but then, it is still as cheap as it was before. One other thing I yearn for is the 罗伯斯并 from the roadside after mum picked me up from kindergarten, with that woman. I barely remember her face now, but I definitely recall the spoon, the flour mix and how the thing magically appeared in the shape of the spoon after deep frying. I also miss the 茶叶蛋 from the old woman outside the children's hospital, after my many trips there due to fever, excessive coughing etc. Immune system still sh*tty though. Have diahorreal illness from Malaysia.

Is that home? I suppose I am nearing the age where I should really start thinking about creating my own home. Frightful thought, but to not think about is to only delay reality. I'm no Peter Pan. I can't be a kid forever. Haha, it's funny isn't it? Everything that our innocent childhood stories that we love so dearly tell us about the big bad world? Delay adulthood, be a child forever. Ah, there is a reason why that is called fantasy.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, awwww......I should re-read some of the Roald Dahl, I reckon I'll understand so much more now, anyway, the part where Grandpa lives Charlie's fantasy with him. That's it isn't it? We lose our childhoods, then, when we are old with grandchildren, we get a chance to regain it, through them. That is why all grandparents spoil their grandkids. Ok, not all, but the ones that get it do.

As far as my own childhood goes, actually, sadly, personally, I consider it to be pretty much over once I left Nanjing. But then what was in between???? Extended adolescence? Perhaps. It was just not the same once we left. At least I had almost 7 years of nice memories to draw on. Plus bits and pieces here and there. Not the best, but then definitely not the worst. That which does not kill us will make us stronger I guess.

Sigh, now I'm off to attempt to be more of an adult.