Home, the place where I belong.

As thanksgiving holidays arrive, and Christmas soon to follow, everyone seems to be packing up their bags to head home, to their families. All those who plan on staying here for thanksgiving know how it feels to see your roommate putting all their stuff in the big suitcase while they excitedly tell you all about what its like, "thanksgiving at their place." Regardless of your interest, you stand, nod your head while your mind strays to the thought of your family. Even though I never celebrated thanksgiving, the holiday still make me miss home.


Last night, I went through the pictures of my last week in Pakistan and I came across this one group photo of my family at what they called, "Talha's going-away party." I could see the deep emotions under those smiling faces, reflecting their true feelings. Being the youngest of three children, I had a much intimate bond with them. Now, that i had chosen to stand on my own feet, and take up responsibility, I admire their utmost support and belief that they have in me. Without them, nothing would have been possible. I owe them a lifetime!


The consistent connection I've had growing up with my cousins brings back those wonderful memories. Gossiping, crank calling, watching movies, random hiking trips, conversations that lasted till dawn and all that fun we had in our little summer house in the hills, engraved memories in my mind. I still look back at those days, the moments we enjoyed and the memories we made.

I am grateful for my family, and for the memories I have shared with them. I cannot wait to visit them over summer break.