It is two exact months today since moving back to this placed I like calling it as home. Hasn’t been easy, this move and the entire paraphernalia it has brought along with it. Sometimes you need years of not learning and moments of unlearning to finally learn a few precious life lessons. It teaches you the hard way, they say. But I played along the hesitant student for the longest time who whined and brooded, waited and hoped, and gave and took many a second chance.
This has been my second such return in the last eight years of making a life, and yet the dichotomy of things have remained unchanged. I would still like to leave once again for the same kind of sticky situations and conceited hearts, and I would still once again come back to what is rightfully mine. Like these rolling hills and burnt-out meadows, and the endless stretch of smoky-blue skies singing in unison. Ever since a little girl, I have been a silent partaker of their quiet, rugged beauty and despite the brittleness of hearts and the exoticism of greener pastures, I sigh every time I pass by it.