Home

I haven't written in here for almost a year now. Another Ramadan passed. Lots have happened, again. 

I'm sitting at the beach with a coffee as I'm writing this. The beach that's less than 10 mins walk from where I will be living for a few more days. We're handing over our keys on Tuesday, it feels really bittersweet, so I thought I'd write, and remember. Its an absolutely gorgeous day today. The sky is blue and the water's almost shimmering. The sound of light waves is so soothing its almost putting me to sleep. 

Moving here was an unexpected event in my life. When I was in early university days I wanted to live in an apartment above a cafe, so that I can just go downstairs and get really good coffee and come up to the comfort of my home. It was such a silly idea, but subhanAllah, Allah has answered my wistful wish in a better way. For just over a year, I've lived in an apartment close to the beach, a couple minutes walk away from some great cafes (eight cafes, I just counted). I was able to come out for morning walks and see gorgeous sunrises and feel the sand between my toes. Also, for the first time in my life, I was able to call a bit of space 'my' home. I went from my parents home to my in laws home and that's how I lived for over 30 years of my life, which isn't so terrible when you consider the grand scheme of things and the tests that lots of others go through, but its the subtle inconvenience of never feeling at home. Which I suppose is not the worst thing in the world, as we aren't really meant to feel at home in this world anyway.

We've had a lot of visible tests this past year - A's sickness, the car accident things and everything related to these two. We've never paid this much behind doctors and car issues. But things could have been much worse. I say 'visible' tests because we are constantly being tests and its up to us to recognise that we are in a test and respond to it appropriately. If life has taught me anything it is that no one test is better than the other and there is really no way out of it, except for Allah's help. So, we just need to keep making dua and trying our best, keep doing this over and over again until we die.

Now we're moving again, to where we are not exactly sure. I suppose there's beauty in this as well - the mixture of uncertainty of life but security of living is what makes it fun and exciting. These last few days have been exciting indeed. I've been sorting through our things and packing them in boxes. I feel guilty about throwing so much out especially because a lot of it is broken plastic/treated wood and weird things like that which is terrible for the environment, but then holding onto these will bring no benefit and will just lead to hoarding. I've held onto lots of things in the hope that kids will do craft with them, but sometimes it just doesn't happen. So I guess I just have to be brutal about it this one time and throw things out, then, when we get another place - we have to be intentional about what comes into our home and what doesn't. 

We've sold the following things over the past couple of weeks: shoe rack, washing machine, magnetic bike, bed and side table set, two mattresses, dining chairs and sofa set. Alhamdulillah. It felt almost impossible at the beginning, but we're getting there. I've cleaned out the main cupboards already. But we just have to spend the next two days in sorting through the rest and putting them in boxes/throwing them away. 

Alhamdulillah. We never lose out by making dua. There is blessing in both directly answered and 'unanswered' dua. 

I wrote this sometime in late Feb/early March this year:

How long does it take

for a space to become a home?

Blurry childhood memories:

Sunlight on the balcony...

Tiny lizards on the wall...

Laughter...

8 PM dinners...

Tuberoses every Friday. 

My mother in all her beauty,

Baba - the wisest, smartest person I knew.

Our broken English sentences -

To prepare for the journey ahead.

How long does it take

for a space to become a home?

Ma's tears as she sat 

on the doorstep of our balcony

In Flemington.

Tears for a home left behind.

Baba - trying to hold on -

Onto the family of five

For a "better" future 

than what he left behind -

Honour, respect, himself.

The two of them

Striving to keep the ground beneath us steady

As their own feet shook.

Dua for - better, better, better.

Two teenagers,

Grappling to live life,

Growing up in mixed worlds.

Trying to make sense of it with their senses.

While, I -

I lived blissfully.

They made home feel like home.

My top bunk,

First facewash,

Gell pens and diaries,

Becoming a woman between houses 

From two bedrooms to three

Balcony to a backyard

Pink walls and mirrors

Brown tiles and bottle green curtains

Our new home took no time

to feel like home.

Dandelions, sunlight and spiderwebs,

...being laughed at, at school...

- My bed with its checkered bedsheet -

...tears, dua, that corner in the library...

- Comfort food in the kitchen -

Hug from apuni,

"It'll be alright,"

Dua, dua, dua.

Finding new friends, hope, laughter

Turning fourteen... Fifteen... Sixteen... Changing schools.

Home - 

my study table, bookshelf, diaries.

Home.

From high school to university -

A bigger world,

A bigger home, 

From three bedrooms to five -

My own space.

My white bed, my table, my bookshelf.

My clothes on the floor.

My pens and papers.

The view from my windows -

Three of them 

Birds on my tree.

Distant mountains - 

All mine.

How long does it take

for a space to become a home?

For a face to become a home?

His face, his hands

His words

The way he showed me the world.

From Philippines to Fez

Deserts and Oceans

Land and the sky

Airports felt like home.

Then,

Two became three.

Three became four.

Tests roll in as life rolls out.

"Rabbi, build for me a home next to You."

As I sit here with the sun on my skin

The sound of waves

Sand between my toes

Thinking about how 

Our new home took no time

to feel like home.

I'll leave it all behind soon.

Tiptoeing on the stairs...

Soaking clothes in the tub...

Mess on the living room floor...

Glue, paint, playdough, love.

Swimming in the afternoons...

Sunrise with a coffee in hand...

Picking frangipanis from the ground...

Watching planes land, and leave.

This feels like home.

Even if its just for a little while.