Beauty Seen is Never Lost

As kids, we extended our hands to that plastic box of crayons located at the middle of the round table we shared. And we drew that house. Everyone knew of it, for in our small minds, that was it. Triangular rooftop in red. Brown squared front. A rectangular door in the middle, and two squared windows with a cross inside. In Kindergarten, that was home. That was our home, every single one of us.
Now, as I stand here with my graduation gown and university degree, I realize, I can no longer hold a crayon, and home doesn’t fit on paper. Home was embedded and woven so precisely, in those four years I’ve spent in this place. Home is that girl sitting amongst the crowds clapping vigorously for me; pride hanging like an aura around her. Home is that classroom over there, overflowing with ideas, opinions, theories, clashes, and answers that are strung together in my head, offering me an exceptional glimpse into a world only I know of. Home is that professor over there, who with his unyielding passion, showed me that creativity was a necessity not a choice. Amongst everything, Home are those hearts that subtly became one; those friendships that made me believe in the possibility of a ‘beautiful world’; those beings who never flinched, never doubted, never strayed; whether I was intact or in pieces.
For here, I’ve loved too much, and I dreamed, too much. I’ve seen the beauty and the tragedy of human nature with all its shades. Here was the place, where my words became a proof of a once-upon-a-time solid existence; where my ideas were built upon, talked about, and handed over. Here was the place where I felt it all. The gap between 17 and 21, right and wrong, extreme hate to ultimate attachment.
Maybe that’s why I ache now, maybe that’s why it’s hard to step out of the water.

But there’s more out there, so much more. And my greed has no limits nor outlines.
And this home?
It’s permanent as long as I am.

Posted by Diddlina at 12:30 PM