Home

I’m grateful to be home. Grateful for the blooming bougainvillea, for the friends whose company makes me feel like a child again, for the streets that smell like jasmine, for the sea’s familiar embrace and for and for the watermelon in the fridge, sliced with care, that always awaits my return. I’m grateful for the cafes whose lemonade tastes like sweet reminiscence, and for the bars whose walls recount my adolescence.
I’m grateful for the sparrows nesting in my grandmas garden. A garden which seems to encompass their entire existence, from birth and toil, to love and friendship, yet their presence there is actually as ephemeral as mine.