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 finally ready to move back home. To repair what was depleted, to come back to the cocoon that my family has been.
It's been 7 months since I moved back home now. The transition from living alone on noone's terms but mine to living in a house full of people all the time was surprisingly smooth. True there were moments when I JUST NEEDED SOME TIME OUT, but they were so few that I marvelled at not having come home much much earlier.
And now, its time to move again. To move back to a city I know my heart belongs in. But, while the excitement is there, while I catch fleeting glimpses of it, this time, I know what I am going away from. This time, there are no blinkers and I am afraid. Afraid of cowering alone in a room, seeing shapes that I am not sure are really there. Afraid of whether I will have to rebuild the strength I will need to not let walls close around me again. Afraid of being trapped in nightmares after 7 months of trouble free, wierd but funny dream sleep.
This is a city I don't belong in, a world where I feel like an alien. My home however, my haven, it is where I seek comfort. This I will miss.
Coming back to a home which smells of other people, this I will miss.
Hearing my mom and dad moan in their sleep, in sync, like they speak a dream language of their own, while not the most beautiful sound in the world, is definitely the most endearing. This too I will sorely miss.
It is not the times that we have done things together as a family that I will miss the most. What else is family if not for the things you do together. The things I will miss most are what we are when we are each in our own world. That is where I see the pieces fit together perfectly. A home, a house where I sit in the hall, staring at my laptop for hours. Where my dad sits in one room, determined to repair something or the other against our fervent wishes that he would not really try and make himself as useful at home. Where my sister sits for hours yakking with her boyfriend, while I secretly wish she would spend a little more time with me. Where my mother sits in her own Alaska, with the AC on at temperatures that ensure we don wollens in the middle of summer if we want to sit in the same room as her. And yet, in the middle of all this seperate activity, I hear my dad cough and my sister go and give him water. I hear my mom laugh at some random joke my dad cracks from across the room. I hear my sister shuffle her feet and lock herself in the bathroom for hours. These are the little things that I will miss the most. A house that holds more breaths than mine alone. Home: where really my heart will always be...
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 finally ready to move back home. To repair what was depleted, to come back to the cocoon that my family has been.
It's been 7 months since I moved back home now. The transition from living alone on noone's terms but mine to living in a house full of people all the time was surprisingly smooth. True there were moments when I JUST NEEDED SOME TIME OUT, but they were so few that I marvelled at not having come home much much earlier.
And now, its time to move again. To move back to a city I know my heart belongs in. But, while the excitement is there, while I catch fleeting glimpses of it, this time, I know what I am going away from. This time, there are no blinkers and I am afraid. Afraid of cowering alone in a room, seeing shapes that I am not sure are really there. Afraid of whether I will have to rebuild the strength I will need to not let walls close around me again. Afraid of being trapped in nightmares after 7 months of trouble free, wierd but funny dream sleep.
This is a city I don't belong in, a world where I feel like an alien. My home however, my haven, it is where I seek comfort. This I will miss.
Coming back to a home which smells of other people, this I will miss.
Hearing my mom and dad moan in their sleep, in sync, like they speak a dream language of their own, while not the most beautiful sound in the world, is definitely the most endearing. This too I will sorely miss.
It is not the times that we have done things together as a family that I will miss the most. What else is family if not for the things you do together. The things I will miss most are what we are when we are each in our own world. That is where I see the pieces fit together perfectly. A home, a house where I sit in the hall, staring at my laptop for hours. Where my dad sits in one room, determined to repair something or the other against our fervent wishes that he would not really try and make himself as useful at home. Where my sister sits for hours yakking with her boyfriend, while I secretly wish she would spend a little more time with me. Where my mother sits in her own Alaska, with the AC on at temperatures that ensure we don wollens in the middle of summer if we want to sit in the same room as her. And yet, in the middle of all this seperate activity, I hear my dad cough and my sister go and give him water. I hear my mom laugh at some random joke my dad cracks from across the room. I hear my sister shuffle her feet and lock herself in the bathroom for hours. These are the little things that I will miss the most. A house that holds more breaths than mine alone. Home: where really my heart will always be...
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