I am standing in this big, bright room, surrounded by windows on three sides, and with skylights on the top. Next to me is the big, open kitchen, the floor shining in dark brown, I can see it through the two big archways and the window. All around me is the biggest sofa I have ever seen, in a somewhat worn light blue color, inter-spaced by little tables and lamps. The walls are decorated with trinkets. I can feel the soft carpet under my feet. The sun is shining, and I can feel its warmth and brightness. When I look outside, I see the shades of green and brown of nature, and the large porch that is attached to this room. Beyond it is a glowing green meadow, surrounded by trees, going upwards.

I open the door to the porch and step outside. I am hit by thick summer air that smells sweet and heavy. It’s a unique smell, one that I’ve only ever encountered in this corner of the world. Walking through this air feels like walking through something viscous like jelly, or perhaps like walking in a different dimension. I can feel the warm, rough wooden structure of the porch beneath my feet as I walk up the hill. When I reach the end of the meadow, I climb a small platform and look back down on the large yard and the house that now seems small in the distance. It is dark brown and worn from weather, but well taken care of.

You are here, the heart and soul of this place. The place comes alive when you enter the room and is filled with joy and laughter when you are there. You are always so attentive and caring, and you anticipate every need before I can even formulate it. You joke and laugh, and you make me joke and laugh. You always put others before yourself, something that makes you the loving, open-hearted person that you are…

I have been here so many times, this place feels like a second home to me. I first came here when I was an awkward teenager, and was astonished and overwhelmed by how different this world was, and what a truly unique person you are. I came back many times in my early twenties, and spending a month here every other year helped shape me into who I am. I kept coming back less often, older and wiser, but still always feeling like coming to a second home.

The first era tastes like coming of age and novelty. The taste of Oreos and Dr. Pepper. Everything was new, everything was exciting, everything was so, so different. The supermarkets, the buses, the magazines, the video rental store, this enormous city an hour’s bus ride away. You introduced me to Oreos and Dr. Pepper, something that I have never encountered in my life before. It was 1997, and I discovered that I loved Oreos and Dr. Pepper.

The second era tastes like character and ambition. The taste of Hershey’s Kisses and chicken fingers. A few years have passed between the first and second era. I had grown up and went through a wild phase. But I had grown beyond that, and was ready to actually find out who I really am. And nothing helped me with that more than being here. And nobody helped me with that more than you, you invited me into your home and gave me the opportunity to explore the greatest city in the world. And though I wasn’t really so fond of Oreos anymore, I discovered new things. In the evenings we enjoyed the culinary joys of this corner of the world together, always with new experiences and in new environments.

The third era tastes like bygone sentiments and globalization. The taste of cheesecake. Another few years have passed. This would be our last reunion. The world has so rapidly changed in the 5 years during which I haven’t been here. The feelings of the bygone eras were difficult to resurface. I became harder for me to summon the feeling of contentedness and joy that I felt in this city in the past. Yet I still discovered new experiences, even after all this time.

Your home was still a second home to me. It still felt the same… the carpet under my feet, the skylight above me, the thickness of the air outside. But we both changed in the past years. Me in character, and you in age. The years and years of living in that fast-paced work left a severe mark on you, and the decline was starting to show.

But then again, it felt different. 20 years had passed since my first visit here. And it was different. It was the last time I would ever be there, and the last time I would ever see you. You, the person who shaped my life like no other person. Who always encouraged me and believed in me even from a very long distance, and who made me feel at home when I was there with you. Who brought joy and that unmistakable laughter into my life, that I can still hear when I close my eyes and think about you.

One year ago, you left this world. But you will always live on in my memories, laughing, joking, and spreading warmth and joy – a feeling that I will always be able to summon with some Oreos and Dr. Pepper.