I haven’t posted as much as I would like to—with the exception of my willing—but that’s been because I’ve been so dang busy! In the process on my thoughts its not hard to  find time to write but then I commute to my office job every day, While at work I try to concentrate on my job. By the time I return home in the evening hours I am physically exhausted and my mind is drained of all creativity.

Even-though had so tight schedule Month, We WLiT team toured to Pokhara and had a craziest wonderful time, I was the one to travel late at night but  for the time I entered pokhara it had just rained and the air was crispy nice.   Pokhara brings always comfort since it reminds best travel I did with my family, the freedom of cities I get as a person , the novelty of the cities where we spent our holidays, the cities we wish to age in but its all in the moment and wont let what we felt their will affect us.  And again  Learned one thing i.e Teaching is Hard! Life has a funny way of teaching us that lesson over and over again. Can you imagine from morning 8 AM to Evening 6 PM, Giving two days of training I was totally exhausted and head was bursting but then beside all that at least we took time to soak in the vibrant energy and felt happy with Night Life, Jazz Music, Freedom, Met friends and and and so on….

There is more to life than a 7-6 Job (holy crap! did she just say 11 hours? Gasp!).. today only this morning my boss quoted by saying  ” your life is good enough, time passes in a blink” I smiled back but Is that what Life is suppose to be… that is not life I murmur!

“Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.”

 

These day I am missing home so badly, Its raining outside but It never rains here like it did at home – or well still does without me in home.
Nostalgia is strange. It breaks you up like nothing else. I want to go back home  and have a family time but the question arises what I will do, many dreams are yet on list. Wasn’t self respect the reason I moved to this place in the first place?
But everynight I sleep, I dream of going back home. Every morning I wake up, my heart aches of the illusioned beautiful dream. Do I have regrets? I don’t know. I haven’t been able to figure that out. But I do wish I had thought it through how it’d be here. I wish I’d hugged my dad a little tighter, a little longer. I feel like it’s been ages I told him that I love him.
I have probably walked miles and miles on the streets of home. Sometimes with a wet tissue on hand- wiping away the sweat. Sometimes tugging the muffler in a little tighter. Sometimes even got neaten up by the hailstones and blown into by the wind. And sometimes, with the black umbrella hiding from the rain. I wish I’d let it touch me more.
Nostalgia is seriously strange. Even the hardcore romantic sings like from titanic reminds me of home and the tiny window by the side of my bed. I’ve walked miles with my hands over a friend and even more miles with just myself around. I was alone – never lonely. Today I have so many people around. My room mate is more than family, more than sister and more than friend. Everyone smiles, offers greetings and tries to help. There is human presence everywhere but I don’t remember the last time I didn’t feel lonely among this crowd.
Then I think, if it just rained once, I’d close my eyes, picture my home, my road and say, “It smells like rain, It smells like my home.”

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