Home (Series) -- no. 2

Home is a scent - or a collection of it.
It is that whiff that embraces you the second you open the door.
It's not necessarily something you're expecting when you insert the key and turn the knob.
But it is the "ah" moment you have in your head when it attacks your senses, and you think "there's no place like home."

It is the familiarity of the foods your mother cooked.
Or the potpourri your grandmother have always loved.
Of the woods and grains that composed your furniture your father built with his bare hands.
Of the conjoint sweat from passionate nights that had soaked through your mattress.

Of the perfume you've decided to wear for the day.
Of the bath salt you indulge yourself in every night.
Of the compilation of stories from the outfits you've worn stored neatly in your closet awaiting the next adventure.
Of the herbal tea that helps you through an otherwise sleepless night.
Of the coffee beans that gets you through even the toughest of days.
Of the records that brought you comfort and joy on various occasions.
Of books that nourished your soul each time you turned a page.

There is no place like home.

There is no place like home.