I think I’ve lost the notion of home. For 18 years, home meant living in Morocco with my dad, mom, and brother. Home, for the longest time, was the house my dad chose for us before my birth, delicious meals my mom prepared with love every day, and daily fights with my brother over silly things; a home filled with the loudest giggles.
Then, I moved to Ifrane to pursue my bachelor’s degree, and the meaning of home gradually changed. Back then, it still meant living in Morocco; I had a dozen friends as my support system whenever I missed “home.” Two years later, those same friends became home, or as cheesy as it might sound, they became my home away from home.
Currently, I am in Canada; 9000 kilometres away from Morocco, from my family, and from my friends. Yet I feel a sense of home. I do not know if it’s because I end up meeting good people and they become my home, or for some other reason. But with all these changes, I’ve lost the notion of home. I am not sure how to feel about it.
Chifaa Bouzid is a staff writer for the Cascade, currently pursuing a postgraduate diploma in International Business at UFV. She holds a bachelor's degree in Computer Science and has a keen interest in writing and social media management, blending her technical skills with creative storytelling.
