I've been sitting, thinking about my childhood. I have always had a dream of escaping the small town I have spent my entire life living in the same place, the same streets, the same fields. Everything as it has been from the moment I can remember.

Recently, however, I've been reflecting on the memories I made throughout my childhood. The same streets that have been the backbone for the memories I have created in this small town. One street that has so many memories. Too many to count.

Summers, Springs, Autumns, Winters. All spent with friends and creating memories in the back streets, main streets. Wherever you can find. Having an adventurous personality is difficult when you are able to direct your way for hours through the town. It's possible, there are so many fields yet to be discovered, so many more memories to be made.

The dream of escaping this small town sticks. Despite the amount of memories myself and so many friends have here, I still want to escape. Am I mad for doing so? Probably.

No matter where I move to in however many years. Maybe I'll move to the city nearby, the city up north or the Capital city. Maybe I will move country, move continent. Wherever I go, home will always be home. Home will always be the center of memories, no matter what development plans take place or who moves into the houses, home will forever be a sense of place that contains memories.

Home also has a double meaning, in addition to the memories created. Home will also always be certain people. My close friends, my mother. My grandparents. Wherever they are, that is where home will be.