Sunday, December 29, 2013

All things Home!

When people say I'm homesick, I don't really relate to that sentiment, because honestly I don't get homesick.I don't feel depressed, I don't cry for missing home, I don't fret about it too much... I wonder if homesickness in me manifests in some different form. Am I homesick when I reminisce my coffee? or that swing? or my tiny garden? Am I homesick when I am talking about my huge bed? Am I being homesick when I talk about my clothes being washed, ironed and delivered from the laundry?

I came back home after a month and I know that I wanted to see my mum and may be i am homesick, may be I shouldn't claim that I don't get homesick in the first place. What is homesickness if not to miss something that you can call home? In my case my mother. To end up in her warm embrace after a long day, and to magically feel better. If that's not a cure to homesickness, I don't know what is.

When I say home, I imagine a lot of silence. My home is a very quiet place, there is no constant chatter, there is mostly me chattering away but when I keep quiet, it all stands still. Home is to be woken up by a familiar touch and soft voice. I imagine the soft breeze and the birds chirping. It's almost weird that you could take away all of it and I'd still have my home. My mum.

I realised, I don't yearn for my coffee, my blanket, I don't yearn for my books, what I yearn for is familiar faces and voices. I realised reading, writing, taking a nap are not what make a space yours. It's the people that you share it with that make all the difference.

I could be put in any corner of the world and I wont claim to be homesick, but it's just those strings that tug at my heart that remind me of a time and space that comforted me. That's home. Those people are home. Those conversations are home. The rest of it is just a house.

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