Collection: Homesickness

1. In between

She tightened her grip on the suitcase handle, the wheels dragging unevenly over the cracked pavement as she got on her bike. The weight of it slowed her down, but she didn’t mind. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and lingering fog. She pedaled slowly, letting the familiar sights settle in her mind one last time. The steady traffic lights ahead, the glow of traffic lights changing from red to green, the distant honking of cars, and the rhythmic whir of passing bikes - each sound whispered a farewell. As she reached the railway overpass, she paused, watching the train thunder past below. The metal beast roared forward, indifferent to the lives it carried or left behind. For a moment, she considered turning back. But the thought passed as quickly as it had come. She reached the train station just as the sun peeked through the morning clouds, illuminating the timetable board. It was time to leave. Yet as she stood there, suitcase in hand, she knew that no matter where she went, the city would always be a part of her.

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2. The Ache of Longing

She traced the rim of her coffee cup, her fingers restless against the ceramic. Her mother’s voice crackled through the phone, too far away to hold. "You’re settling in? Eating well?" She wanted to say yes, but the truth pressed against her ribs. The apartment was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. No footsteps pacing the hallway late at night, no scent of her father’s tea steeping in the kitchen, no tail thumping against the floor when she walked through the door. The silence was heavy, pressing in from all sides, making her chest feel too small for her breath. The absence of them was the loudest sound of all. It echoed in empty corners, in untouched chairs, in the spaces where their presence should have been. She closed her eyes and tried to remember their warmth, but memory was never quite enough. It was like trying to hold water in cupped hands - no matter how tightly she grasped, it always slipped through, leaving her with nothing but the ache of longing.

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3. Bitter sweet

The scent of something familiar lingered as she entered the kitchen. Spices she couldn’t name but remembered by heart. She walked by the cabinet, the tang of citrus and cinnamon weaving between aisles. She reached for a jar on the shelf, running her thumb over the table. It wasn’t quite the same but close enough. She worked from memory, remembering the words her mother would whisper to her as she mixed the ingredients to form the perfect mixture. Adding pinches of the little recollections of laughter and contentment. The first bite was close. The second felt even closer.  Fresh from the oven, she realised that it wasn’t just about recreating dishes. It was about making something of her own. Something new, something abode. A feeling of warmth spread through her chest. A warm feeling she hadn’t felt in forever. Home. A funny word to describe a place you reside in when it was never the structure that made it home. Home is something so special, it’s indescribable. It was the taste of a favourite meal and bonds connected over time. The laughter shared over a table, and the stories that lived on long after an empty plate.  And tonight, she’ll bring a little bit of that home right here.