Sometimes, I almost envy those people who able to live small, just getting along by life, remaining in the town they were born in; growing up, going to school, getting married, bearing children and spending their time out at the tip of a pin pushed into the world map. Isn't that easy? Not having to spend weeks that rush into months, yearning for something bigger, missing someone. I know that it is perhaps not just as it seems and that everyone has their own struggles, but once in a while, I catch a glimpse of that sort of life and wonder if it is as simple as it appears to be.
After almost four years spent away from the place where I was born (home isn't an easy word for me to use, being as complicated to define as it is), I have come to realise that no matter how, we will always come to miss the place so familiar we once thought we knew everything about; the place we'd sometimes been so eager to leave in search for the ones where the buildings were more charming and the people more romantic the way we had always read and heard about. I've been imagining my feet in the warm sands, waves licking my toes the way my dog back home sometimes does when I spill something on them, being with you, being with you, always being with you and seeing it all together.
Instead of saying on the verge of tears, I tweet edge of the waterfall for the times I miss you so badly, as well as for the times I feel so afraid of being average all my life. I don't know if anyone else has ever felt this way, or whether everyone feels this way. It was only rereading an old letter from my penpal where she had, in conjunction with one of our personal festivals, listed out all the favourite things of hers that she had received from me, that made me realise that perhaps, perhaps love is enough. To have touched another's life in an uplifting way, and not just one but more than that, may be one of the best things we can do in this life.