I went to Beijing to have an exam yesterday. Though I was born in a small city 40 km far from Beijing and still living there, however, I felt it cordial to stay there. Because nearly all my families came from Beijing, and I have went to Beijing frequently since I was born.

The exam was held in a middle school in Beijing. As I spoke with apparent Beijing accent, the teacher said “Oh! You’re Beijinger? ! But why your ID card indicate you are from other city?” I could not explain this question. And the students near me were all surprised to know I was not living or studying in Beijing.

“This is a time you come back home to take an exam.” They said.

I was the only one in that classroom who was not studying in Beijing, and I didn’t know any of the teachers or students. Nevertheless, I had an illusion that it seemed I had been with them for a long time, and all those students had been my classmates. When the ending bell rang, talking with the students in Beijing, I was delighted with the same accent, same speaking speed and same intonation.

The hotel I stayed was 5 minutes’ walk to the school. As I walked back, I tended to feel as I had been walking on the way back home from where I studied, rather than back from a place taking an exam.

Home is a generalized concept. And leaving home does not mean you leaving where you’re living currently. Like me, who should have been staying in Beijing, is just one who has been far from home for a long time. I have not been back home, right? Consequently, I can name my feeling as a word: Nostalgia.