Home is not just pho or rice paper rolls

Or the textures of fresh herbs and crispy red shallots

Or even the taste of lemongrass infused in our palettes

It’s even subtler than the crunch of bread rolls or elephant ear stem

in our sweet and sour tomato soup broth
Home to many people like me and my family

May contain smells of fish sauce and pungent spices – to our senses not domineering

Sometimes it’s the case when its durian but other smells spread beyond the kitchen

For one, the hint of incense lingering when we do our honouring –

such peace it brings, remembering…
Beyond food, home is where you hear spontaneous karaoke, sad ballads, and your native

tongue spoken

A language you think sounds melodic, beautiful, poetic, and warm

Despite not necessarily knowing every word said, you savour the sentiment and its harmony

Sometimes love emanating from the warmth of the voice is just as sweet as it is soothing
See, home is the little things you cannot see at first, such as the sacred;

The unseen paths of our ancestors for which we continue on and give reverence

Traditions and stories shared across generations to which we give remembrance

Even existing beyond the confines of imperialism, communism, or any isms that tore us apart –

led us to war, and to seek refuge and a new start
Sometimes our homes are not within reach or no longer exist – sometimes we must uproot to find sustenance

It can unsettle us to move away from what we know and our comforts

For home is of many things all at once; taste, smells, sounds, sights, touch

See, home is not just where we reside, home is a place that nourishes us –

and more importantly, it’s a space where we can truly flourish…