Love Your Nest.

Yesterday, I incidentally learnt the dictionary meaning of the word “home”, and the answer made me laugh. It really did because to my mind “home” isn’t easy to define - you just know when you are there.

Home is neither a building nor a place, home is people. Home is not where you go to after a bad day at work, or when you are tired. It’s not a place where you cry your heart out or where you eat your favourite dessert, its not a place where you sleep peacefully or where you watch your favourite movie. Home is your favourite people and the comfort they bring along. People to whom you tell about your day or whom you eat the dessert with. People who rub your back when you cry and who are there for you when you feel lost. People whom you watch your favourite movie with, again and again and who sleep peacefully next to you after a long day.

But it has always surprised me how conveniently we forget the importance of these people - people who truly are our homes. My home are my parents who love me unconditionally, my brother who can't see me weep, my sister who laughs at my jokes no matter how bad they are, my best friends who have my back and cry along, my grandparents who always think I am thin no matter how many pounds I put on, my aunts who love me like a daughter, my cousins who watch movies with me and who would make Maggi for me at midnight, my teachers who believe in me, my friends who make me smile on a grey days and all those who have been part of me ever, if not forever.

How empty our souls would be, if we did not have these homes to return to?

I am happy for the homes I have had, though some are closer than the others and some now, are unreachable.

I hope you are familiar with how good it feels to be home.

-A.