As I drove across the familiar roads of heaven, I knew I was getting closer. The wind in my hair, the smell of sweet air, the chilly goodness of winter, the warmth in the passing faces, it was not my imagination. I was there, in flesh and blood, with all my heart and soul. I was home.
In that moment of time, I was my best of selves, elated and pious, peaceful yet excited. I felt blessed and fortunate, loved and cared for. I felt that the particular instant of time was a glimpse of heaven, glimmering hope, incandescent light, pure bliss. It was a moment I will remember for the rest of my life.
Days went by, and months. I was dazed by the beauty of my hometown, rejuvenated by its every aspect. The water tasted so sweet, the trees looked so green. My evening walks to watch the sunset, my early morning tea, my favorite hangouts, delicacies at the local food joints, it was all a treasure trove, and I couldn’t stop asking for more. Time flew so to speak, because it usually does when you are ecstatic.
As I carried my heavy luggage and an even heavier heart, I was amazed at how sad I had become. It was after all my fault that I was feeling this way, it was my choice. As I look back at that moment of bliss, I reassure myself that it will come again, and soon. Because there is no other place in this whole world, no place like home.