Going away can make you miss a place, or it can repel you from the place even more. But often, it is difficult to fully ascertain the validity of either claim. These days, she speaks of ‘home’ in another continent altogether, where their verbal exchanges have impressed a new lilt upon her tone. Her home has shifted away but mine stays rooted here. To me, this will still be the home where we created adventure trails around the swimming pool as children, shouted ‘Marco Polo’ and hid beneath the bridge on artificial rocks, took pride in hanging upside down on parallel bars. Every year or so she flies away from home, back to a land of childhood memories and stagnant relatives. Every year, we are still here.