Little big things
The last time I set off to explore the world, I had the cloak of naivete, the comfort of ignorance and the excitement of spreading my wings to carry me through. No grey clouds cast their shadow. No inkling of the crippling bouts of missing family that would come. Bouts that would leave me aching physically, that would result in waking up gasping for breath and a desperate desire to reach out, to hear the sound of my mom's loud, free, laughter; to hear my sister whine, to listen to my dad's not so musical snores. I was young, dying to prove to my family that I was ALL GROWN UP, able to take care of myself, more than ready to take on the BIG BAD WORLD! 6 years I lived alone. 6 years that brought me closer to my family than I could have ever imagined. In these 6 years, I loved and lost. I found myself, I learnt that it is ok to not fill every silence with unnecessary yapping. I learnt to not let the walls of a house close around me, I learnt to live with myself. 6 years and I was