I’m one of those types. The ones who believe that,”Home is where the heart is”, because it doesn’t matter where you live, it is more like who.
A better response might be that I don’t know where home for me is.
Yup. That’s right.
From the time I could remember, and even before that, I was always moving around.
For the first few years of my life, it was moving around with my mum, (which I don’t really remember, it is just mostly old photos and stories my mum told me) from Chennai, India, to London, Cairo, Dubai and then finally, to Riyadh, when I was around four, because my father got a permanent job there.
From then on, I’ve lived in that same place, only going somewhere for a rare vacation. That too, mostly to India.
They say that if you live in a place, long enough, you will start to feel a special attachment to it.
I like it here, away from all those prying relatives, back in India.
But, feeling a special attachment, I don’t know.
Sometimes, I want my senior year to end soon, so I could go back to India and start college (and a new chapter of my life) there.
At other times, I don’t want to leave this. Ever. Because it is really hard to leave a place where you’ve lived for the major part of your life. (More than 12 years in my case.)

The final question is this: “Where is home for you?”
And my answer to that would be,”I don’t really know. Although presently, I think that it might be Riyadh.”

This post was inspired by The Daily Post Prompt

P. S. I know that this was a rather vague post, and totally different from my usual style of posting.
It was just that I was having varied thoughts the previous night, and just feeling generally nostalgic.

P. P. S. I apologise for any spelling/grammatical errors that might have occurred, I wasn’t feeling the best today. I’ll edit it soon. Probably.