It's weird and strange...this perfect amalgamation of two souls to create this weird strange third soul that stands in between lost to both lands but in a strange and weird way at home in both.
You wouldn't take my dad to be a sentimental person. He is for all purposes a practical person filled with so much common sense and worldly words and good practical advice. The person you go to when you want to know the best way to divide up your assets, where to invest money. But hidden somewhere in the commercial little lines of seemingly trivial Diwali card greetings simmering ever so lightly on the surface is a depth you'd miss if you didn't catch it in just the right light. A touch of sentimentalism that doesn't always use words to communicate. A lasting embrace at the airport. His actions that convey more than words ever could. Holiday postcards that fill up suitcases and leave no room for clothes.
And then you have my mum's intuitiveness. Being able to feel without someone saying a word. Knowing what's in the air before it ever materializes. The kind of intuitiveness that predicts the future. Being so keenly aware of someone's feelings that she could reach out and touch them, the feelings not the person. It's an odd gift - being able to make feelings come alive. Her hug when you didn't even fully realize your soul was aching for one, a hug that fills up your entire inner being, warms you so completely on the inside and makes you sad when it's done. Feelings that don't need words.
And then there is me trapped in the middle. Caught somewhere between that wistful sentimentalism and being able to touch feelings. Unable to find words.
Ever felt homesickness so hopelessly acute that you could reach out and hold all of that lost nostalgic sentimentalism in your hands?
Nothing to say
3 days ago