Home is where the heart is. That saying has never felt truer to me than it does now. From Thatta to Karachi to Queens , full circle and to this little town in Mississippi, I have always been home.

Anytime I have been homesick, it's when I was without my mom. When I was younger, it would only be a few days till I burst into tears, but a couple weeks before I would fully appreciate her return. In a way, its still the same now. I miss her incredibly when she's gone. But now it takes very little time to realize all that she does and is, in her absence...and I can hold out longer before I cry.

What home is has changed, what it means hasn't. It's still the place I can let my hair down, and genuinely laugh (however strange it may be). It's where the silence is never awkward, and your words are heard for all that you mean in them. The enthusiasm shared, the optimism abound, the sighs or tears are uninhibited. Where the arms are always open to hide in, the shoulder available to cry on, the tea is hot and the emotions flow freely.

SubhanAllah...what I would give to be home again...