Down the alleys of time
You find me here, hunched down in front of my laptop, on my old bed in my old room. For two and a half months I have missed this place. This bed. This room. The walls. Anything you name in this 2000 odd square feet, I will vouch that I have missed it sorely. Maybe even the road outside. The tress that rise tall from the ground and bow down gracefully from above, forming a cool canopy of calm shade. The sight of all those random people on morning walks and jogs. The myriad shops that bustle with customers in the evening. I don't think I would miss any of these individually. But combined, they form a part of my former habitat. They amalgamate beautifully into that feeling of home and warmth and love.
After spending close to two decades in a place, it is anything but easy to suddenly dissociate from it. My roots are still here, and I feel homesick oftentimes. I will not apologize for that, nor will I justify by trying to delve into the whys of it. It is what it is. The journey to acceptance is fraught with many a rock- denial being the first of them. I spent many days before I even let myself acknowledge the feeling, and then quite some time berating myself for it. Isn't the present good enough? Why do you have to mourn over the past? Eventually, I made peace with the fact that home now meant multiple places. I loved both in very different ways and needed the air of both to thrive.
But you see, as much as I try to live in the moment, there's a part of me that always goes time hopping. So as I mentioned, I'm in bed in my old room, and my mind chooses this moment to bring up everything I miss about my new home. I wonder if my plants will be fine for the better part of the week. I miss that panoramic view from the 11th floor. I miss looking at the bright blue of the pool at night. Many many other things.
I toss and turn around restlessly, ruminating if an amphibian feels this way. If water feels more alluring on land, and land feels more alluring when in water. Over time, do you learn to balance it out? Or do you start leaning more towards one and forgetting the other?
I do not know, Dear Reader. I stumble on, trying to chain that restless simian of my mind to the present.
After spending close to two decades in a place, it is anything but easy to suddenly dissociate from it. My roots are still here, and I feel homesick oftentimes. I will not apologize for that, nor will I justify by trying to delve into the whys of it. It is what it is. The journey to acceptance is fraught with many a rock- denial being the first of them. I spent many days before I even let myself acknowledge the feeling, and then quite some time berating myself for it. Isn't the present good enough? Why do you have to mourn over the past? Eventually, I made peace with the fact that home now meant multiple places. I loved both in very different ways and needed the air of both to thrive.
But you see, as much as I try to live in the moment, there's a part of me that always goes time hopping. So as I mentioned, I'm in bed in my old room, and my mind chooses this moment to bring up everything I miss about my new home. I wonder if my plants will be fine for the better part of the week. I miss that panoramic view from the 11th floor. I miss looking at the bright blue of the pool at night. Many many other things.
I toss and turn around restlessly, ruminating if an amphibian feels this way. If water feels more alluring on land, and land feels more alluring when in water. Over time, do you learn to balance it out? Or do you start leaning more towards one and forgetting the other?
I do not know, Dear Reader. I stumble on, trying to chain that restless simian of my mind to the present.
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