Fly.

Now that summer is almost here and the sun is soaking me with unfathomable energy, I cannot contain this wild energy to keep imagining and dreaming further; further than what is real out there, the boundaries of grounds and skies. I want to take the airplane and flee, land somewhere mysterious and discover the Earth, make connections, like I always do.

I’m not saying that my life here is unfulfilling. It’s not. It’s a beautiful dream that I am living right now, one of my ideals taking shape. But still, as long as I am looking out for more to do, I cannot find stillness in everyday life. I cannot find satisfaction while my vivid ideals cannot presently touch what’s before me and transcend me into this— I don’t know.

Or maybe, I just want to fly away in that airplane because I miss certain things. I miss the smell of my mother’s perfume and the sound of the hairdryer every morning, having those light, hopeful conversations with her as she sips her morning coffee. I miss talking of adventures with her, discussing the confidence women should wear like a permanent attire. I miss singing to my sister lullabies before she sleeps, entwining my arms around her so gently, till I hear her soft breathing and feel her body moving slowly, tossing and turning in sync with her vivid dreams. I miss waking up each morning and visualising what new things we will discover, to make our day beautiful. I miss talking to her, joking, and just being silent with her as we hear our feet stepping on the grass. I miss my home.

And though it is not my home, and that I’m not entitled there, my heart yearns for every second there to be lived. My body desires to house the soul that once lived there, the soul that is not there anymore— that soul that is weary and restless; that longs to be back.

But I’m sure, even if I do go back there, with this absolute lack of stillness and restlessness, I won’t find myself home. I will find myself wretched and torn apart, not belonging anywhere in particular. That’s why I need to work on believing that right now, this present beautiful moment is home, because I’m living it with every breath and every intention, which should matter the most.

It makes me grateful, to think about that. It makes me thankful of what my wonderful present home entails, but still I’m incomplete and I keep wondering what is missing? What is there that I need to finally perfect?

How can I be whole again?

Perhaps that is why I want to fly. I want to be somewhere in between, in some kind of transition, to truly be mindfully present within the magnitude of distance. I don’t want to be anywhere in particular. I don’t want those distractions anymore, I just want to observe and be who I am, accept it, till I put all of the puzzle pieces back into place, then land and return to where I belong as gracefully as I can, whole and complete, happy and content.

But this is only an ideal. As long as we are on Earth, those struggles shall remain potent and existent. Those struggles shall define who we are. I think my problem is that there are some particular things that I’ll never accept, like my flaws and imperfections, ones that I may only see. And I’ll remain caged whenever those flaws surface, until I drown them again so that I could truly be free.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to the learners at schools about who they want to be when they grow up. When my turn came, I told them I wanted to be a bird, and they laughed.

Now I think I truly meant it.