“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home & rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. – Lin Yutang
23 hours and 35 minutes.
That’s how long it took me to get home. After one year of imagining what it would feel like being in the presence of familiar faces and being embraced by the people I love the most. I’ve spent nights picturing the smile on my mom’s face, how her cheeks bulge up like mine do, a clear indication of happiness. I stored the memories of my dad cracking up over his own jokes and how his immediate response will always be “you will miss this when I’m not around.”
I’ve pictured my sister as the little baby that I spent a year taking care of, I know I’m in for a surprise because she’s older now, bigger in size, she uses real words and knows what she wants and when she wants it. Boy, was I surprised.
Lying next to my parents on their bed, having my mom poke my back while I moan in pain, and my dad asking me random questions and my sister interrupting, I’ve longed for this. Yes, weird stuff to want in your life, but this was what my life was like.
I’ve spent so long being away that I don’t know how to bounce back to my life, I barely remember what I would do daily, what I do remember is the things I mentioned above and that’s what I’ve held on to for so long.
It feels odd being home, weird almost, it’s too early to tell how this is actually going or how these few days will play out but we shall tread carefully each day.
I am happy, hesitant, but still happy.