Its been 4 days now. 4 days and 3 nights to be precise. I am back to my city, my streets, my house, my bed, my restroom. Only difference is that I no longer feel they are ‘mine’.
Looks like 11 months has changed the point of reference for “my” and “mine”. Even though I never fell in love with the city of Fort Worth, I just realized the unrealized bond I had with the city, my couch which was no more than a rented piece of luxury, turns out, meant a lot more to me. The extra soft bed which my house had to offer, even though hated for its softness, felt so much mine.
I switch on my TV, and my mind looks for TBS and science channel which I don’t get any longer, I look for my cooktop , and find my mom hogging the kitchen, I look for my refrigerator and find as if strangers have taken over the freeze space, I go to my restroom and the counter looks so different.
Yep you heard it mine, I think everything that was to with my house was mine, I had no one to answer to, and it had no one else to tend to. The chores and errands which were a sort of headache to begin with, had become a part of my life, something which I thought I would never miss, but turns out I do.
It had been just a month since the gang had formed, and now I am out of it, I miss every single person from it, the weekend fun, cooking at each other’s place, going out on every single occasion, the drink we used to enjoy.
At the end of 4 days, I am dying to get back to work, the idea of ‘rest’ is kind of unresting my mind.
I know this is a temporary thing, and my point of reference will soon change, but until then, I think I am missing my house, my life.