Whenever I catch myself falling into the hole of comparison, I go back to my ongoing list of lessons learned during my journey of life.
This is a really good mom.
I’m ready to be in a place where you have not yet haunted every road, every room, every corner with the turn of your smile.
It’s your fingertips tangled with mine, your arms wrapped around me making me feel like home. It’s sparks in your eyes and fireworks in mine. It’s our feet moving to the beat and our hearts skipping beats.
I know there is so much earth left to discover, so much soft sand or hard ground for my feet to feel. So many people I have left to meet, so many lips to kiss, so many stories to write.
I left the country I was born in, leaving most of my family behind and at the age of 12, I had already moved six times and had lived in five different countries.
How to trust my decisions. When I started getting my student visa and arranging my loans, and my loved ones realized I was not kidding, I got a lot of “Why are you doing this?” and “You’re going to regret this one day.”
Home is the warmth of laughter with friends and sipping out of cracked dollar-store wine glasses. Home is simply an association to the place where you have the freedom to be you.
Take me back to any time but don’t take me back to now. The now, two years later, that is the uncomfortable truth of it all. That moving to a new city does not fix your depression.
The thing about home is that it’s transitory. It changes as you change.