I find it hard as I sit on my grey soft and bumpy coach, with my legs rested on the coffee table uncomfortably and back crunched in to the pillow curved to perfection taking the shape of my back
To imagine that in 15 days I will be home.
After 11 months of being here on ‘the other side of the world’ I almost forgot what it means to
fall back into the warm hugs of family, to eat loving home cooked family meals, to hear the buzzing noise of children playing soccer in the street and to listen to the Adhan five times a day..
Fifteen-days till sunsets on the beach, morning kisses from the grandparents, hugs from the aunties and hearty breakfasts
Fifteen days till I can look outside the window and spot the deep blue sea, and breath in the salty cold breeze of our North Coast
Fifteen days till I can be surrounded by my 15 cousins building sand castles and basking in the sun of the Mediterranean all day long
Fifteen days till I can squeeze my sisters and shower them with hugs kisses and lots of love
Fifteen days till I can hold them close to me and stare at them in awe of how much they’ve grown without me..
Fifteen days till I hear my mother’s voice yelling at us to go to bed, shhhh.. we just switch to ‘whispering’ instead
Fifteen days till I can stop missing out on their beauty and intelligence
Fifteen days till I can see my closest family friends
Fifteen days till I can come home to a house of five people sitting warmly on the coach together catching up on our future plans and ambitions
Fifteen days till this coach I am sitting on, right now, curves back into a puffy coach with a fluffy pillow perfectly round and untouched for 57 days.