There's No Place Like Home.

One Friday morning a few years ago, I visited one of my uncles, who was very affluent; it's been a while since I saw him, with the plan to go back home that same day; however, his wife wanted me to spend more days with them, maybe because she loved my aura and how I always lend a hand with house chores and other errands when I visited.

"Do I call your mom to tell her you will be spending a few weeks more with us?" Aunty Tolani politely asked, and I felt that since they were affluent and had almost everything I needed to stay comfortable, it wouldn't be a bad idea. "Yes, ma'am, but I didn't carry enough clothes since I didn't plan on staying long initially," I added.

"Oh, don't worry about that; I'll take you to the nearest shopping mall; you'll pick any outfit of your choice, shoes, and bags; you like that?" She smiled and patted my shoulder.

In excitement, I ran off to hug her and say, "Yes, ma," I like that," and so she made the call, telling my mom I'd be spending a few more weeks at her place.

The next day, which was on Saturday, started so well, as we both headed to the mall for my clothes, shoes, and bag. We shopped for enough clothes, shoes, and bags, and then we headed to the eatery to buy some small chops and ice cream.

My holiday officially began on Sunday, and then I realized the way she portioned food wasn't the way my mom dished my food for me at home. For breakfast, she gave me just two slices of bread and a very small cup of tea. I thought since it was on Sunday, it would not repeat itself, and then when we were back from service, I would be eating to my fill, but then she busted my bubbles again.

"Aunty, what are we having for lunch?" I asked, "It's yam and egg sauce, baby," and she replied as she walked into the kitchen, only for her to return with a very small portion of yam for me, which would not even be enough for the worms in my stomach to eat and be happy.

As soon as I saw her coming with that very small plate of yam, three small slices of yam, and a very small egg sauce, to be precise, my countenance changed because obviously I am a foodie and I always ate to my fill at home. Since I didn't want her to feel bad, I faked a smile, but deep down I started to feel uncomfortable staying with them, and every time I wished my mom could call to request for me to be home for something urgent,

Breakfast became a dread for me, as I knew I would be starving even though she felt she was giving me a variety of food.

Although I do have all the luxuries in that house to enjoy, I wanted to be back home in no time as I was uncomfortable. Most nights, she was always on her phone, and I was left all alone in the room, feeling bored even though there were games. I remember how I and my siblings would chat at night, tell stories, and share unending laughter before we finally hit the sack every night, so I pretended to fall sick on the fourth day of my visit so that I could go back home, and then she became too scared.

"Please call my mom for me," I pleaded. Immediately after my mom got on the phone, the butterfly in my tummy fluttered, and since my aunt could not understand my dialect, I began to speak in my dialect, telling my mom I wanted her to come to pick me up. I missed the food, her laughter, my siblings, the comfort of my bed, and the true love and warmth in my home. Then I realized home is a place where the simple joy of life unfolds.

My mom came the next day to pick me up, and as soon as I stepped foot in my house, I realized that no matter the luxuries I find outside, they could never be compared to the peace and comfort my home brings, as truly, there's no place like home.