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Coming Home

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The day has come. Years of wait, and hopeless faith, have all led to today. I remember the last time we bid adieu. It had been quite the scene.

We stood staring at each other in the pouring rain, helplessly finding answers in the other’s eyes. Hoping the other would say something, the thing we couldn’t. But fate, as always, had the upper hand. In this case, it was a hammer of a hand, lying heavy on my tongue. Though my mind leapt with words, reasons and justifications, I couldn’t muster a sound at that moment.

And he just stood there. Emptiness and pain filling his eyes. I'd only associated him to happiness, and us to love, but when I saw how hurt he was, it shattered me. Even in the rain, we could see each other’s tears. We could feel a part of ourselves breaking away. And we let it.

The crossroads in life are never easy, but if the agony becomes a part of your isolated heart, then the decision cannot be right. Coming back after years of separation, I realized this. I realized my mistake. Memories came back to stab me. Recollection of moments spent with him, brought mixed regret and solace.

I had to admit my life was better out there, despite all of this guilt. I was a different person. Free-spirited, happy, successful. Yet, somehow, incomplete.

My years spent abroad followed a pattern I couldn't break. During the day, I was all lively and chirpy, surrounded by the most amazing people, going about life as if nothing was wrong. Though every night I’d lay on my bed, and spiral into a cyclone of thoughts. Thinking of how different life could’ve been; feeling guilty of maybe making the wrong choice; trying to understand how to fill this empty void inside of me. And in this turmoil, I’d drift off to sleep, only to wake up the next morning, and relive it all over again.

After battling this internal conflict for so long, I now come home. It’s been years since I last step foot here, but nothing seems to have changed. I could close my eyes and relive my entire childhood standing in any part of my hometown.

I got off the plane and walked into the airport, when familiar green eyes met mine. I knew him. I knew that face, that hair, those shoulders and I definitely knew those eyes. I froze for a minute as he saw me from across the crowd. The last time this had happened, it was raining and we thought we were never going to meet again.

He impulsively ran towards me, in the same old long strides, and embraced me. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t just stand and stare, nor did he turn away. He just hugged me, after a long, long time.

I hugged him back and we both stood there in each other’s arms, oblivious to anyone or anything else in the world. I couldn’t hold back a tear as he hugged me even tighter. He held me so tight, that all the broken pieces stuck back together. Suddenly, the empty void was filled. Guilt was replaced with gratitude. The regret was gone. And just like that, he’d fixed me.

I breathed out a teary sigh when he whispered, “I knew you’d come back.” I softly answered, “I had to come back, you’re home.”




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