Roots

What makes us the person we are? Is it the education? is it a place of belonging? Is it people? Or a place or the background we are born and brought up in? A little bit of everything I guess.


I guess as we grow older, away from roots or life as we were used to, meet newer people from diverse background, we move far ahead of time than what could have ever conceptualize that we stop to take a breath to feel, to let our reality sink in. At least this happened with me. Moving away from home, away from people I thought were my people, away from a place I call my motherland; I found my roots calling me ever so prominently.


Roots, those invisible bonds that tie you back to those little things that make up most of your being. Being away from all things familiar I keep my roots alive in the smallest of things; like making food the way I grew up having, incorporating lil nuances like the concshell in the temple, or trying hard to never forget everything that mattered something to me.


Sometimes all you can do is try, try to preserve your roots and not let time corrode it. To keep the fire simmering but not letting it burn you down. Someday I hope to pass it down, to recreate the beautiful ways that made me more than what I am, the soul rich in experience something that money can never compensate. Someday my little one, will experience it as if it is a way of life and not just as yet another experience to have.


Someday home will not be such a painful emotion.