Yearning of the heart

Sitting next to a field after just having finished a lunch picnic in the grass is an amazing feeling. While I write this, a colleague of mine is snoozing under a tree while the other two are busy trying to find a scaly crusted Munia in the trees surrounding the fields. Despite the fact that I am next to a busy highway and cars are passing every few seconds this is a completely different type of calm and peace than what you find in the city. However a part of me is silently wishing I was home. Home, where my mom and I would argue about the most mundane things possible, where each wall is adorned with photographs of people I love and moments that are important. Home is where my soul is, my family, my books, memories of my dog. Home is where I make a mess and get told off for it, where no one calls me ‘ma’am’, no one holds car doors open for me. Today away from the hustle bustle of the city, home is what my heart yearns for. 

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