I still don't know where I am
Watching my two little darlings shriek and giggle, chase each other around and call my name out, barely able to utter it properly, makes me cry. They flit in and out of the video frame sporadically, getting too close so I can only see a fat cheek here, a glimpse of wispy baby hair tucked hopefully on top of the crown of their tiny heads, there a torn piece of colourful drawing from a storybook that is more interesting as a chewtoy than as reading material. My nieces are growing up and being unable to hold them makes my heart ache.
There is thunder tonight, loud. Trying to muffle the sad pining inside of me. For people dear to me so very far away, who are bewildered at my physical distance. They are still trying to understand why I chose to settle so very far away.
Because I tried so hard to put everything behind me, I mistakenly assumed that distance, a new place, would be enough to escape myself and the stupid mistakes I made when I was younger. Foolishly, I forgot that things must come full circle and in the process, I'd meet myself at some point.
Do I need to be sufficient in myself to be able to love fully, be content, find happiness? In her arms, I am happily content. But because sometimes I am sad, for all the fields I have not lain on, the flowers I will not pick, the people I will not meet, strange climes I will not bask in, a house I will never call home ever again, does it mean that I'm somehow wanting and thus not qualified to love 'for as long as we both shall live?'
I'll throw my lot in with her anyway, no matter how my life pans out. It's been a pretty rocky path, not without its share of drama but it brought me to her. At least, at last, I can say with all honesty, that all the trauma of puberty and my 20s, was worth it. Every single heartache.
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