The things you miss away from home are unexpected.
It’s not only about family and friends and loved ones, it’s not only about the places you grew up at, your school yard, the familiar park around the corner with the dry flowerbeds and the high, dusty trees.
It’s the way the light falls through the kitchen windows in the afternoons and how the roses swing in the breeze out in the balcony. It’s the smell of the neighbourhood cooking in the mornings, windows open and low voices chatting. It’s about cats that lie eternally on the car tops or chase each other playfully. It’s the sound of your parents talking over coffee in the mornings, having always an argument about something trivial, keeping their voices down not to wake you up. It’s how you run answer the doorbell and hang around the hall till your brother comes upstairs and you jump up to hug him. How your stereo still has the same radio frequencies memorised as 15 years ago. And yes, it’s about flavours too, flavours that chase you everywhere you go, but only really taste how they are supposed to when you are there, sitting among them and fighting over the last piece of whatever was baked today.