Happy Home

You know how ten or so years ago, whenever given crayons and a piece of paper, we always drew a landscape with brown mountains with streams running through it; squiggly grass and lopsided houses and a not-so-perfect circle of a sun, with sun beams poking out of it like spikes of a porcupine? Or maybe you don't know; maybe it was me who was insistently persistent in her idea of a perfect landscape.

As years went by, I figured that I'm picturing 'perfect' the wrong way. It might be difficult to explain my thought process and define what happened, but I'll give it a shot, anyway.

This picture of a house by the mountains has always been the foreground of all dreams and romantic scenarios that played through my head. I never payed much attention to who, what or how; just where mattered to me. Not saying I wanted to live in the Himalayas; just saying that I wanted things to be the way I had in mind.

But, sadly, experiences kill our dreams. One minute you're running through the rain, ecstatic, next you fall down with a bruise on your knee and learn your lesson. That happened to me, multiple times. I fell down, bandaged my knee, got up and ran again. And again. Until I had no strength in me to ever run again. My happy home in the hills became hazy and blurred.

When I had given up completely, God told me it's wrong to quit. He stitched me up and set me off. The path that I kept falling on was no longer wet, gritty or rough; it was easy. Once I got over my initial fear of falling, I knew this is what I wanted. It changed my beliefs. It changed my mind. And it helped me.Through life and all the nonsense that comes with it.

Turns out it's not a perfect life that I want. Turns out I can do without a swimming pool and a fish-pond in the garden. Turns out I can make do with a mediocre life with the perfect person. Turns out I already am in my happy home; although the chimney isn't quite like I pictured.