I was sitting, concentrating on the powerpoint work I have, finalizing and making it ready for submission, when a sudden flow of un-interrupted nostalgia stroke me. I felt the need to be among my parents in my village house, enjoying a calm night, nibbling traditional nuts and raisins with a hot cup of tea in a time the wind is chili and hovering around the window corners trying to sneak in.

I want to talk to mom, give her a hug, see her smile, hear her voice, ask her about tomorrow's plans; tomorrow's lunch; tomorrow's visits. I want to hold her hands and smell the remaining odours of the veggies she diced and sliced. I do remember this smell. I always used to hold her hands and stir in them; I always saw in them my history and my old days. How much I appreciate the times she changed my diapers, she combed my hair, she washed my clothes, she rolled my sandwich; I dont know how to express this kind of deep deep admiration, appreciation, and love. Its not true that the desert deprives us from our emotions; It is just the time when we start coming closer to ourselves that we start becoming more personal and intrinsic.

I am always in this remembrance state. I always miss everything I had back there. I try to revive that feeling of stability and harmony, at least live it internally to soothe my spirit and diminish the turbulances.

Keep me now there, sitting calm and warm, beside her... in my mind.