The weekend of sane mornings. 

Here it is, the first light of the day pestering through the open window whilst everyone around me is cozing up in their sleep; here I am, looking at them all. Taking them all in. Trying to memorize this breathtaking feeling. 

On this warm weekend, I am home; home is not a place but the people and I am home. 

I am surrounded by my cousins whom I have grown up with as brothers and sisters, after spending a quality day with them still. Yet, every time I look at them. Every time, I remember a memory of them, I want more. I want more of it. I want to be inspired by them more. I want to fall in love with more once again all over again because I always do anyway when I make a new memory with them. 

This is my family. The root of my being. The only sane thing in my life anymore. 

These brothers; who I idealize. I look up to them and they look after me. They look at me and understand me, most of the time without my having to say anything. They speak for me. For my rights. They speak to make me see my dreams and goals. They speak to make me see myself as I am. They tell me to believe in myself the way they believe in me. They tend to sacrifice themselves; their materialistic beings and conscious being for the mere sake of me comfort. All the while holding onto themselves. Their problems and difficulties, just hiding them behind themselves so that I could shower mine; latter and former to their fronts. 

And my sisters, the ones who would give their lives for me without my asking. The ones those love me far more than I love myself. The ones who sacrifice themselves for me and my happiness because I am their youngest. Because they love me. They see who I am and are not shy at telling me when I am pretending to be otherwise. They protect me; in front of me and in my absence because they can never imagine our bonds to die. 

And then there is me; a fallen off person who doesn’t deserve their love. I claim to love them so much that I would burst, quite literally because of the love I have for them and yet it seems that they love me more. 

But here I am, taking them all in. Feeling something, many things. Feeling like home at 6 in the morning because I am lying on the floor of my Uncle’s house. Because the air here is breaching of peace. Because here, there is no promise of ever after with happiness but the promise that we will stick together; no matter what and accept each other with all our faults and broken selves. Here, there is no judgment for who we are and we are selfish because we are carefree in terms of pretending. We see what we want and we fight to get it; for ourselves and each other, to later admire each other for the same sheer determination for what we want.  Here, we look after each other and ourselves. In other words, we pick not only our broken pieces but each other’s too, without flinching at show of vulnerability because here we are one. Here, we breathe the same air, sharing some same moments in silent; wordly; emotional; embraces of each other. 

Here I am, while everyone is asleep, cherishing them and feeling some sane air travel to my brain because of the love that I feel and the love that I receive. 

Naba M. 

5 thoughts on “The weekend of sane mornings. 

    1. Thank you. Yes, it is amazing to be around them and know that they love you enough. I hope I remain this way too but more than that I hope you find peace in some form or another too, like I did, even if it doesn’t last. I hope you taste it too.

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