When I met you, I knew I was home.
You smelled like home.
We sat, we ate, we talked, we laughed.
Days, months passed. We had the best time of our lives.
Then you had to leave. It was important. I cried, oh badly I cried.
But I had faith, that you’ll be soon home. And then I’ll be soon home.
Today I learnt it’s not always about lovestories between a girls and a boys.
So, what happened today. I woke up and was missing my grandmother. So I thought I should message her. I quickly opened my WhatsApp and search for her contact. To what I saw, I had tears in my eyes. She had put up my childhood’s picture as her display picture on WhatsApp. She never asks for anything, me, my time. But for her, I am still that four year old boy, waiting for his treat, whom she ran to and hugged so tight.
Home isn’t a set house, or a single dot on a map. Home isn’t a four walled space.
It is wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. It is where you’re safe, where you’re loved.
It is where you find light when all grows dark.
Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.
Some people are home today. Near, far, where ever. And we all are soon going to be home.