Posted: Wednesday, August 15, 2012 6:25:53 PM
I love it when songs speak to me, and I dream. The artist hums next to me, and we lightly sway back and forth to the music. We sit on the backyard swing, and I grin from ear to ear while staring at the stars. Or maybe I cry my eyes out, so some random person cheers me up with a guitar. Or maybe I am in some Nicholas Sparks novel, and my one true love confesses his hidden desires for me through prose. But then I wake up from my dream and break from these ideals. My life is not a novel written for teenagers who love love.
But when I hear the song “Home” by Phillip Phillips, I am reminded that even if I become a forever alone, cat-loving spinster, I always have my family’s love and wishes—something that is so real.
Just know that you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home
As many people know, this was the theme song of USA’s Olympic artistic gymnasts, the Fabulous Five. When I saw their performances, I was inspired by their family-like support for each other. Furthermore, even though I was probably sucked into smart media gimmicks, I was moved by the family theme that played throughout the Olympics broadcast. For example, P&G launched a campaign called “Thank you, Mom” that showcased the Olympian’s moms on their athlete’s journey. Their sacrifice, wishes, support, hope, and love are things my mom and countless other mom’s exhibit everyday, too. These programs fueled my Olympic obsession.
While I dream of watching the Olympics religiously at the actual stadium, I got something even better. Nothing beats slurping noodles with my family while inhaling the scent of our old leather couch and yelling at the TV set. My dad and sister critiqued the gymnasts and divers as if it mattered what they thought. My mom asked too many questions about everything. I drooled over Tom Daley’s abs. My sister said he looked like an animal out of Madagascar. My dad said that the American male gymnasts sucked at the pommel horse and that John Orozco was too soft. I complained about the lack of good Chinese sprinters. My dad told me to wait; they will come. It was better than one big happy family out of a family sitcom because it was my family, doing what we always do to annoy each other. The family theme had traveled into our living room. We had one of those cliché and cheesy yet so perfect moments in life, because I felt like I belonged and was at home with them. Granted, I was physically at home, but at that moment, my mind was at home too. Whenever I listen to that song, I don’t think about crazy dreams out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, I think about the real memories, the reality I had. They are better than the dreams.