All through summer, fall and winter, my timeline has had memories of me being at home, going home, returning from home again and again. Almost everyday has had a memory related to home. It has been heart warming to see these memories (even though the memories are tinged with varying hues of melancholy). They remind me that despite everything, I did visit often.

If this were a movie, this is the part where I or the protagonist would look wistfully into the distance and think “I miss arriving home to find my mom waiting up no matter what time my flight was arriving” And then they’d be some poignant music playing. Maybe the protagonist would take a wisp of their hair, absent mindedly wrap it around their finger, sigh deeply then the camera would gently zoom in on their face as a gentle memory surfaced or whatever! You’ve seen the movie, I have seen the movie, we’ve all seen the fucking movie.

See what I did there. Who said grief and humor cannot co-exist in the time same time and space. It’s called life right?

But back to the protagonist. Suffice to say, her grief may not, cannot, would not be captured..not fully.

For in grief, art rarely imitates life. Art cannot begin to grasp the enormity of grief but I digress. That’s a whole other post