Tears running down the fair-skinned cheek, sparkling as they slowly flow to the chin. As pure as a child’s heart yet scorching hot like lava on both sides of the face. The first drop scorches the most, but as it rolls down it draws the path for the rest to follow easily, to roll smoothly afterwards.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
We have always hated where we are and what we do. We have always hated many things. Life, death, love, work, food, the weather, or someone. Especially our parents and siblings. We have always fought and argued on the little things, because we’re bored. In spite of all what has been happening to us in the past 65 years, we have lived through it. We have survived.
We, all, have hated our parents the most when they said no when we desperately needed the yes, thinking that this three-letter word will bring happiness and satisfaction upon us, but I guess not.
We all have reached this level, at some point. A level at which we can’t tolerate anything anymore and wanting nothing but to go away and throw everything behind and start a new life.
Here’s to a new beginning.
And then we move. We tailor the life that fits us just perfectly, or so we believe. Then time passes and we start hating everyone and everything again, but one thing remains. Good times we had with people we love. Moments we will always cherish and remember. And this is the case of everyone and everywhere.
Nothing is warmer and safer than my mom’s arms.
I’m not sure what would my answer be when I’m asked about what do I miss about home the most but every time I think about it, the same voice that rang in my ears for 25 years, that bright smile, that lovely laughter, and that beautiful face all strike me at once. My heart aches a little bit and I feel a little burn.
I love you, mama.