This is about anything and everything i come across in everyday life. This is about sweet little things that bring you joy and happiness. This is about strange encounters and pleasant surprises. This is like a journal of my experiences good and bad. This is my own little diary in the truest sense.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Home Sweet Home
is not a story. These are random thoughts that make me look up, that make me
wonder, that make me smile and that make me a grateful person.
you ever taken notice of your expressions when you see your serene room in
that beautiful boutique hotel? You are in awe. But have you also noticed that
the sigh of relief only comes once you are on your own bed in a place called
home sweet home. It doesn’t matter how big or small it is, doesn’t matter how
cluttered or organised it is. The feeling to be home is so familiar and so
positive that no one sings us a lullaby and yet we sleep like babies. It is the
feeling of belonging.
my postgraduate days I often used to stay the weekend over at a dear friend’s
apartment. The weekends were always filled with fun but the positive vibe I got
once I entered my little room in the student accommodation could not be
matched. Dear friend, please do not take offence. The view of the road from the
window in my room became a habit; watching college students rushing for classes
during the day and for a party at the club during the night was a sight I got
so accustomed to. I saw seasons changing from that only window in my room. My
room was my little home away from home. It brought me peace.
is the thing about homes. They are not just structures with walls and roofs.
Everything breathes in them once they start belonging to someone.
The door of my student accommodation.
I got married, I fell so much in love that I concluded home is where husband
is. Funny I know. God bless my dear husband for putting up with me. I see him;
I see so much love that every problem looks like a little grain of sand. His
curvaceous wave like smile sweeps away all those grains. A tiresome day feels
worthwhile when I scoop into his arms. I don’t mind sleeping to his musical
snore and I look forward to opening my eyes to his sleepy childlike smile. He
truly makes the house we live in a home. I belong to him and he belongs to me. This
man is my hope for a future that I know will be wonderful by all means.
and again in the notched streets and puzzling turns of life we find moments of
joy, moments of love, moments of happy realisation and moments of optimism.
While the madness of life generally bogs us down in the swallowing quagmire of
pessimism, its grip so tenacious leaving us feeling helpless, something or
someone arrives and we see a dark cloud BUT with a silver lining. That is when
we count our blessings and be thankful for the life we have, for the roof we
have above our heads and for the people we are surrounded with. It is then we
are glad to still feel that sense of belonging with a certain person and a
certain place we love to call HOME.