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My Lovely Home
My Lovely Home

© Swati Tyagi

Drama Tragedy

2 Minutes   16.5K    116

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“I want to eat something good. Something really really good”

“Name this something really good” Mom smiled

“I don’t know, but something good” I stood behind her in the kitchen.

Soon I had a plate in my hands containing two shallow fried bread slices with chiwda.

“Wow” She always knew what I wanted.

She was my home, my solace. She was my childhood. She loved me without condition like she loved everyone in the family. I could be irresponsible, stubborn, failure, spoiled brat; she would always love me and say proudly “He is my son”. Probably, that is why I used to loosen her grip from my hands (while she was asleep) and run out to play. It was kind of my afternoon tradition.

I was sure she will always be there, when I come back. But, life has cruel ways of teaching and it taught me that there is no forever. Chemotherapy couldn’t help much and I lost her when I was nineteen.

I had to see her drifting away from me, every day. But, I wasn’t there when she died. I was miles away and couldn’t make it before her funeral.

Things have changed great deal when I came back home. There was no one who would fix me quick snacks. I had to win everyone’s love now, unconditional love was gone. I had to prove myself to get my family’s confidence; eyes that would be proud just with my confident laughter were gone. My childhood was gone.

My family was never together after that. Everyone was running for their career, their life, their own priorities. There was no one who would count her success by the smiles she could bring in our lives and would be there to welcome us whenever we came home. There was no home left, to return to.

I have a great job and huge salary. My family looks up to me but I miss her, who had confidence in me when I was nothing but a mindless teenager. After sixteen years, I am still looking for a home to come back to.

“Hey, she resembles your mom” my wife says points out as she looks at the pictures of my mom and our daughter in my wallet. I don’t see the resemblance, maybe she said it just to make me happy or maybe I am too scared to find any resemblance. But, I look at my daughter and wonder will she find her home in me?

love mother daughter miss home

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