I miss the attention. It feels strange to have finally stepped out of the house. Its been days since i felt the touch of my parents. Its going to be longer still before I will actually get to see them. The familiar sounds of pressure cooker's whistle blowing at all hours of the day, the cacophony created by the radio that was turned on for allmost as long as my mother worked around in the house is missed. The sound of my mother coughing while cleaning, the distinct sound of footsteps of each member of the family.
Each day is started with a renewed resolve to see it through. 26 years of staying and living with someone and then moving on to lead a life of her own in the unknown. I seek solace in my house's bedsheets that i still carry from home because the linen has the same comforting smell and the same comforting feel.
I miss looking at the faces, fighting with them and making up with them. I know now why they say that there is no place like home. Its what all that you have left behind. I seek independence from the supposed ties and yet it is these ties whose knot I am not able to unravel. There is no one to ask you for all the hours in a day if you have eaten and if you would like to eat more. No one to hold your back or to listen to your cribs. Independence comes at a cost.
