It gets to that point where things are not normal. What we usually mean by normal is comfortable. This is a concept that the entire humanity is taught from birth when they are pushed out of their limbo in the name of being given life—the sudden temperature change, the force used to make them out of a 10-centimeter hole when they have a 15-centimeter head, out they let out cries of frustration. Their normalcy has been interfered with.
You’d expect with first-hand experience, they would get accustomed to that. But no, they still sorrowfully sob whenever they watch their guardians leave their side.
Even worse, when they are taken to kindergarten amid strangers and other crying babies, this is not what they signed up for. Why were they not consulted?
You’d think it’s different for their caregiver. Well, they may be looking forward to some peace and quiet. Snooze in fiesta land. Get some things done. Working on the bounce-back body before the baby fat. But still, end up missing their babies.
They would satisfy this urge by constantly checking up and asking if everything is okay.
Later, when they return to their babies, they would hug them and then inspect their bodies, demanding an explanation as to the littlest scar they have acquired.
When they go off to campus or another country, make their children promise they would visit or call from time to time.
It would not be a surprise when 25-year-olds cry when they leave their homes. When would it leave your mouth agape? Is it because of age? Is there a time limit?
Recently, I interacted with a grown man with kids. He is successful in his career. An admired expatriate. His village people boast about how he has seen the lands from above in the skies. Yet, he feels like he is going back to a strict all-boys catholic school.
The therapists have given it a term, homesickness. But does one really have a choice when they need to chase the bag?
One can only imagine how shattered to pieces the hearts are when they lose a loved one. The thought of detachment from the warmth laughs, conversation and even conflicts require a whole lot more work toward self-rediscovery than we can imagine.
We wish everyone a colorful week. Pick your broken crayons, they still beautifully color the world.
