Home is where the heart is. I would say our hearts are things waiting to get attached… to people, places, homes, food and memories. So every once a while, our hearts get attached to one of these and we pluck it away and move on. And that’s okay, because then it finds new attachments.
I was bought up in a small steel town set in the heart of India. With the perks of growing up unaware of urban city nuances and lifestyle and into the town’s quiet surroundings and close knit of friends; I always pictured myself touching every major city, living in every facility to the fullest and opening my wings out wide when I grew up.
Today I am doing that. I have stayed in 3 cities in the last 5 years and i have enjoyed every bit of it. I have climbed out of my introvert cocoon and every new chapter holds in itself pages talking about friends found and lost, cultures, foods and flavors, roads traversed, memories spent.It would also talk about the person I have bloomed into, who is very different from the one who left the town back 5 years ago.
But the connection I feel back in my town where time stops back, where I am not an independent woman who has to stand strong and take care of mundane things in life. Here I want to breathe and slip into a retreat, keep my legs on the table, act as the small baby girl of the house, and let the moment be before I pack my bags and resume my hectic life again.
Yes, my mind chose the city. Yet my heart belongs at home.
musingsofP 