Nostalgia

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As I walk down these streets,
I feel these withered walls against my fingers,
Nothing has changed except my fingers, they are a little bigger now,
Or the bricks a little smaller.
I stand on the roof of the house,
Taking in the air of my hometown.
People still live in that next house,
Except the girl I played with is no longer here,
His brother too lives in another city now.
Only people left are the ones who are too old to settle themselves in a new place,
Reminiscing their last days here- familiarity their only salvation.
As I unlock the door to my parent’s room,
I remember how those doors were never locked,
Not until my mother passed away last summer.
The bed inside is still the same,
I didn’t let anyone touch it as it was the place i spent my nights in,
Listening to stories I still remember by heart.
The linen although a bit dusty still smells like mother.
As I walk down the stairs, I see my daughter holding her grandfather’s hand,
Complaining about how I scolded her last night.
She grew up too fast for me to really notice,
But I am glad I never missed out on her childhood.
My father’s room down the stairs is empty now.
My mother asked me to clean his things when he passed,
They made her miss him more.
She must have felt lonely in this house.
I excuse myself for washroom before heading out,
To stand in front of its gate and complain to mom about how difficult things have become and how I don’t want to grow up- ever,
It was a habit i took up as a kid,
Not wanting my mother to see my cry I used to stand there while she bathed,
And complain about everything that was wrong.
I turn back to leave again,
Lock every door to every corner of this house,
There are too many memories here.
I am going for now, until I am ready to come back again and live it all.
If not in time, but in my heart.
I miss my Home.

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