They say that a house is a floor with 4 walls and a roof. No matter how big or small it is, it remains the same structure. A home on the otherhand, are made up not of bricks and mortar, but living hearts and hands that hold on no matter which way the wind is blowing.
I went home for the long weekend and I sure am glad I did. For little did I realise how selfish I have been the last few years by staying away without any proper reason or rhyme.
Time has passed. I have outgrown the town and the town has outgrown me. Neither of us feel much of affinity for the other, and well - it is to be expected. But I have not outgrown my family, and neither have they me.
And given the scene of the last 18 hours, I am glad that I went home and not spent my weekend in my own house, musing. At least I know that there is somewhere I belong and can always go back to.
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