There's a deep dull ache of twenty one, no one warns you about. How do I look forward to the passing of time, knowing I have such little of it with those I had taken for granted.
Maybe i was meant to be sitting in a city 2,500 kilometres away from my home to miss sleeping next to my grandmother. My grandmother who loved me more than life itself. All the times I told her i would not eat the food she made me. All the times I broke her heart, I hope my punishment is not regret. I hope my punishment isn't this impending sense that they're all slipping away. Time is finite and I've hurt them. Could I turn back time to be less annoyed with my grandmother. Should I have hugged her more? Should I call her and tell her that I miss her. Not her cooking, not her constant pestering love. I miss her. I miss her. No amount of mustard oil soaked fried fish can bring me peace except she herself




















