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When Home Shows Up at Your Doorstep
An ordinary day turned into a comforting memory.
Some days end with a soft pillow snugged under your arms. Others with a hearty meal.
Today, mine ended up with a giant parcel — wrapped in plastic and smelling like home.
After wrapping up eight hours of work, I came back home, only to find a giant bubble-wrapped box sitting at my doorstep.
The universe conspires in mysterious ways.
It was from Maa. It was packed so tightly that it took me fifteen minutes just to unwrap it.
Inside were laddoos, aachar (pickle), and every little thing I had been cribbing about not having lately. The second I opened it, I was ecstatic.
I was unwrapping a piece of my heart — a bag full of goodies.
After neatly organising in drawers, I poured the sweet mango pickle into a small bowl, sat with my dal-chawal — and just like that, I missed home.
I don’t often feel homesick. But I do miss being taken care of. I miss the meals and the noise. Sometimes. Maybe.
And as I ate, I realised:
May is already ending.
