Exploring the unknown, a quest for unseen, insatiable urge to know more has always made us all leave our comfort zone and soar away from home. Not just us, every living being has evolved moving away from their comfort zone. Most break the bridges behind only to make sure there is only one path left and that's moving forward, but we humans no matter where we go we carry our home with us.
Life is a constant change of ideas, place, feelings, priorities, but with every new place we see, with every drop of fresh wine, with every new season, we are connected to home no matter where we live. As I sit and type down the chaos of a muddled mind, I always wonder who is at the deep end of reminiscence, is it me or is it the people I left back home.
With every success of ours, there is always at least 2 people who are genuinely happy for us and that's our parents. Being a mom myself, I wonder if there is a training to mask the pain and always put forth a positive valor like my parents do. I see them happy for us to have moved out of our comfort zone, I see them boldly accept that we are not going to be around them and possibly when they want us badly we are not going to be in the reachable distance. But none of this is neither put into words, nor expressed in feelings. Although there is no measure of wistful vibes, a gloomy day makes me wonder if I miss them more than they do!
When we miss something immensely, the world seems to take pleasure in reminding us more. A well groomed garden, a dish which turned out better, a smell of a medicine, aroma of a coffee and a melodious song always fills me with nostalgia reminding me of my dear parents who have put life in all these things. All of us who are away from home will surely understand the masked essence of the emotions I am pouring out here. We all carry a baggage of memories on our shoulder almost all the time. But yet our journeys continue.
Oh the etiolated memories come and go from a distant land, I struggle to hear them speak, I shake those memories to see if they are alive, but they say nothing, when I pause desolated by them I see them shimmer, all these memories seems to have a gift within them. A gift of holding the positive thought giving us strength to soar high, clenching all that matters very close to heart.
And again the phone rings, I see the same smiling faces, my heart is filled with joy and we talk, talk and talk. Just when I seem to have mastered the art of hiding all my emotions and put forth my happy face, they heard the sounds of muffled cries.
PS: This post is in response to a Topic Challenge - "Missing Parents"
Life is a constant change of ideas, place, feelings, priorities, but with every new place we see, with every drop of fresh wine, with every new season, we are connected to home no matter where we live. As I sit and type down the chaos of a muddled mind, I always wonder who is at the deep end of reminiscence, is it me or is it the people I left back home.
With every success of ours, there is always at least 2 people who are genuinely happy for us and that's our parents. Being a mom myself, I wonder if there is a training to mask the pain and always put forth a positive valor like my parents do. I see them happy for us to have moved out of our comfort zone, I see them boldly accept that we are not going to be around them and possibly when they want us badly we are not going to be in the reachable distance. But none of this is neither put into words, nor expressed in feelings. Although there is no measure of wistful vibes, a gloomy day makes me wonder if I miss them more than they do!
When we miss something immensely, the world seems to take pleasure in reminding us more. A well groomed garden, a dish which turned out better, a smell of a medicine, aroma of a coffee and a melodious song always fills me with nostalgia reminding me of my dear parents who have put life in all these things. All of us who are away from home will surely understand the masked essence of the emotions I am pouring out here. We all carry a baggage of memories on our shoulder almost all the time. But yet our journeys continue.
Oh the etiolated memories come and go from a distant land, I struggle to hear them speak, I shake those memories to see if they are alive, but they say nothing, when I pause desolated by them I see them shimmer, all these memories seems to have a gift within them. A gift of holding the positive thought giving us strength to soar high, clenching all that matters very close to heart.
And again the phone rings, I see the same smiling faces, my heart is filled with joy and we talk, talk and talk. Just when I seem to have mastered the art of hiding all my emotions and put forth my happy face, they heard the sounds of muffled cries.
PS: This post is in response to a Topic Challenge - "Missing Parents"