nine

i don't know where to begin this story
or is it a poem?
a poem doesn't have to rhyme, does it?
and verses don't need punctuations, or meter, or capitalisation, do they?

maybe you won't agree with that, i can see you cringing as you read this.
and maybe you won't agree with many other things,
maybe you won't see life like i do.

i'd like to tell you, show you, and shield you
but i won't.
it's your journey and i'm just your friend
and i hope to stay that way
especially when times are rough and hopefully when it's fun.

some days can make you feel foolish
others can make you lose hope,
but wait for them to pass.

be gentle, kind and thoughtful,
be warm and loving.
be just the person you are.

that's all i want to say.

Where the heart is...

What is home?

It's fond memories. It's a good mental space. It's what you think of when you're feeling down and out. It's also what you think of when you feel thrilled to bits! It's your past but not necessarily your present or your future. But it's still home.

Madras was her home. No, not Chennai. Madras. Is there a difference? Yes! Especially for those who don't live there any more or haven't lived there for awhile, the difference is huge. Chennai doesn't roll off the tongue as easily as does Madras. It sounds a tad pretentious and it's just not....Madras! That's all.

As adamant as she was about calling her home Madras, she was equally adamant all her life that Madras was her only 'home'. No other place that she had lived in and loved could become home.

Until quite recently when she realised and accepted that it's OK to have more than one home.

Home is the present and the future. Home is fondness. Home is memories. Home is love. And to be corny, home is where the heart is.

And her heart was firmly planted in more than one place.

Introspection

Older
Wiser
Happier
Fitter
Less sleepy
Funner
More with it!

A great start to a better year!