It was a persistent thought I couldn't
get out of my system, even while I cocooned myself for more than a
week surrounded by flora and wind chimes that tune in to the silent
music of the wind. I even took it out for coffee, poised my hand to
write some scrawny lines – alas, nothing poured out of the tip of
my pen. I couldn't let go, yet I could not live with it either. It was
all done, yet it carried a torch to my future, nagging me to this
very day, until I did something, anything, perhaps to make amends for
putting it off or to simply give more.
The unrest is there. But one thing is
clear. It has not been a mere sacrifice – it is a significant
contribution, not a staggering ripple of change in society, but
still, a deep mark that meant so much to our family.
After all, home is where a heart lives.
