Back to the place I called home, after two years.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been living with my mom, in her friend’s home. I think that was because the apartment wasn’t ready yet, and also since we just got back here, it’s pretty tiring, her friend was kind of taking care of us.

I’ve been to the US for a several times, and I’ve been travel with plane for countless times. However, to be honest, this is actually the most tiring trip. The N95 masks, the gloves, the hand sanitizer, the food we brought ourself… Most people are like us, people wearing two masks, people wearing protective suits, they are not in the minority.

Even though we’ve got a paper work to require us to stay in and quarantine, I heard that people are not actually following. Anyway, my mom and I had been staying in for two weeks, not going anywhere.

Her friend’s house was not in the same city as where we used to live, it’s just a twenty minutes drive. On the way home, I’ve been so nervous. The mixture of excitement, the architecture that I’m familiar with, the recall of all the memories…I’m back to the place I used to called home for two years, and the place I left for four years.