There’s a strange buzzing sound right outside my window – whether it’s a bee or someone making tea, I do not know. But what I do know is that my view for the next 365 days is going to change… rarely. Sky will leak on the sodden Earth, the snow will cast its blanket devoid any warmth; but the eyes will see the rising sun, unchangeable among the changeable, as they first did when this tiny little room looked up to me and dared me to call its four walls, ‘Home’.
Setting foot 12,855 km (787 miles) away from a land I lived and breathed in for 14 years, the soul continues to quiver in delight and trepidation. How does one make sense of this gift that one waited for, for so many years? And now that it’s finally here, how does one truly accept that it belongs to them? And then there are the lost ties, some required and others, one hopes with fingers crossed, will find their way back to each other no matter how far they are.
As the tiny little heart takes it all in, beating day and night amidst the deafening reality, there are just a scatter of words that it looks up to, to stand firm and not lose it’s footing…
It’s never over until one decides to give up – on a person, place or thing. And this little heart, might quiver like a shaky rundown house, but it doesn’t plan to give up… not now, not ever, not anytime soon or forever.