Homecoming

Homecoming I had traveled long and far before getting home, and it was a beautiful spring day when I arrived. The air in the flat smelt of neglect, the dust of memories covered family pictures. “those where the days my love.” A phrase from a recent song murmured on my lips. I half turned by the door wanted to run away again only this time I had nowhere to go my journey over. Agonizing silence a never ending Om, I got to do something, opened the blinds to the door out to the terrace and up from a flowerpot of dry soil… and two small eggs flew a pigeon. Wonder and new hope. If a meek bird could find a home here so could I; of course for now the terrace was out of bound. Slowly, ghosts of past misery vanished as ancient dust danced in a halo of sunlight. ,