The Winter's Child.

It is only now that I understand this sense of longing. The yearning for a place I once lived in, the craving to be there again and again and again. 

There's this sense of poetic justice to this, you see? When I had been living and breathing there I did not fully comprehend the power of a "place" or how much it could change you as a person. But it's about twelve years from my migration to an unfamiliar land and amongst people who were very different from me, yet after all these years I write poems and stories about it. The common misconception through the times has been that people thought I had been writing about other people (only been unkind to people with filth for a character), not all the time nope, I was aching for a place I thought I did not fully appreciate because of the type of "situationships" I had surrounded myself with.

For some time, I thought I was missing the people I developed any sort of feeling for, the friendships that were forged in the mountains, the conversations had on the side of a water stream or the series of occurrences which I thought were "falling in love or falling out of it". But it was an inclination towards missing a place so much that you deliberately carry with you the most toxic parts of it because maybe just maybe, it reminds you of a sunset you saw there, idk. 

Always hugged by the mountains, near the feet of the deity, always protected. A few hundred miles from home, a home for the next five years of my life. The most beautiful, adventurous and biggest learning curve of my life. Sure I met the worst kind of people possible and carried them with me as baggage but I also met the best kind of people with the best hearts.

It is only now that I understand that I have never in all, intents and purpose, "missed" people from that place. But I'll tell you what I really miss. 

I miss the frosty mornings with the cleanest air, I miss the familiar roads to home that always took you where you needed to be, the valleys, the depth of the trenches, the sunrise peeping from the mountains ready to bathe everything in gold, the smell of the dew, the cold, the big mountains always always by your side, the flowers, the giggles, the hugs and the bonds. I miss the feeling. I miss feeling like the mountain's child, I miss being "The Winter's Child" in the truest sense. I miss the magical place because of which maybe I made huge blunders in terms of choices but they've also led me to be where I am today. Like I said they were familiar roads to home, that always took you towards where you exactly needed to be.

And I no longer feel that it's selfish in any way, to not miss people as much you know? It's okay to miss a place and choose to not remember people in those memories. Like how it's between two old and close friends. What I shared with that place is probably one of the most idiosyncratic relationships I've ever had in my life. We have had our fair share of secret conversations, corners that only we knew of, paths that only we had taken, tales that we had beat into shape, scents that only we were aware of and so so many judgements we have passed in confidentiality and comfort, tears I've shed in safety and joys I've felt that are only ours. Like I said, it's like how it is between friends of some sort. There were so many things I had already known but I did not mind the sense of an older and wiser friend instilling them in me as values contrary to them being only mere situations which were how I had been calibrating them.

I'd tell you honestly, I never thought I'd come to a point in my life where I'd miss that place you know? The place away from a supremely small town. The town by itself felt like being in such an alien part of the globe (a culture thing maybe). It gave you this grave and consistent feeling of nothingness, see the irony? I met people of my own age but of vastly different mentality, at some places even cruel. But with time I understood that the instinctive reactions of people change towards viciousness when they've felt deprived for a long time. In this case, the depravity of exposure had shrunken the minds of people of my age beyond repair. Soon though I found myself becoming like them at certain places, you know the phrase "it grows on you" yeah something of that sort. It was like living in the "dark academia" vibe 24*7 the world currently raves of. *grins*

It is only now that I recognise and fully accept the fact that it's okay to miss a place and have no desire to go back. Or recall people to jog up a memory that makes you smile, that it's okay to think of people as sheer tools to achieve clarity in the best of memories, nothing more and nothing less. That it's okay to move on from something to not only heal but cherish. And that it's okay to not remember certain faces but remember the mountain hikes, not remember the voice but still love the song. And it's okay, without one shred of guilt, to extract the best of yourself and these stories, take them forward to be able to love the people you have now (gratitude only) better than you ever did. 

To be my most vulnerable, crazy, stupid, funny and naked self with the right people. I know now that the only reason I made some mistakes in the form of people is because I didn't know exactly what I deserved. That I had been asking for the wrong things all that time.

Now, come on! How do you find the best things in life, if you aren't looking for them? Extremely grateful for meeting the best of people (even if only a handful but that's life's rule I suppose) during that time too, much love, y'all know who you are. 

I miss that place like you miss your best friend. I miss being “The Winter’s Child”.  :)

Kinda feels light. 

Hey Siri, play "The Night We Met by Lord Huron." <3

The Night We Met

Unitl next time, 

Love always

S