Moving On

June 2025

And we moved houses again.

One more time.

Packed up years of baggage, dreams, unspoken words and boxes full of spices that always remind me of what a home used to be in a country where I grew up.

Everything was meant to go as per plan.

Nothing did.

The move that started with a smoothness of butter ended up being like uncooked pasta. When it was finally over after 5 days of marathon, I was left with 40 unopened boxes, thirsty plants and headache the size of durian.

But someone wise once said that life must go on. So, it did. Boxes were opened. Some things found a corner. Many things did not find a place and are still sitting on my dining table questioning me about their existence. Unwanted things were stuffed in small cupboards in a hope that they would magically disappear. Things poured out of every corner. Some familiar. Some forgotten. Some unwanted. I sat among pile of things and wondered if this was all worth it. If I was to die tomorrow, what happens to my things? In no time everything will be seen as clutter by an outsider who has had no idea about my life journey.

Only I know that the mug I bought in Bali has a small crack at the bottom that reminds me of my cat Cherry who accidentally toppled the mug. She is now resting in a patch of grass in a home in Dubai that no longer belongs to me. Her soul is in the mug waiting to be hugged one more time. There is an old dress that I bought on a whim in India after I laughed about something silly with my sister. The dress has soaked up all the laughter and is waiting to be worn one more time so I can laugh again. A photo of me and my husband reminds of a time when we were just married, broke and believed that we could conquer the world on our terms.

Things are not things. They have soul. A piece of all the special or mundane moments remains sewn on the edge of everything that means nothing to others but means the world to me.

I am slowly setting up a home in a rented apartment that once belonged to someone else, and I wonder if I will be able to grow roots again and bloom again. If I will be able to call this home, make it my own and have friends over whose laughter will create a whirlpool of familiar chaos once again in my life.

As I look out of the window on this rainy day, I am grateful that I am alive, I have a new home and that I can cook my grandmother’s recipe one more time. Life will eventually take over. Time will pass and this unknown place will become home, where I will live with my cats and my better half. I have a million things and thoughts that are crammed into this space on the 20th floor from where I can see the dark sky and see the rain pouring. This is the only life I know, and I am finally home; one more time!