My father kissed me goodbye. I began my war against tears. My brother hugged with the warning that I dare not cry. But by the time I leaned towards my mother’s cheek, I could no longer reign it in; I felt the flood gates of my eyes gape open. I was going back to my college to start my stint as a house surgeon from Bahrain, my foster homeland. I’m a 23 year old who was gifted the cape of a doctor two days back. But as I was leaving, I suddenly felt like a five year old. And it struck me. No matter how much I grow up, I am always going to be their little girl. I was blessed with nearly 40 blissful days in this beautiful island. I had come over after 3.5 years. And there is a strong possibility that this is my last time on the sands of Bahrain . My future plans do not include a trip here. Yet, since I do not know the plans of God, I can never be too sure. In certain niches of my heart, this place is a synonym for home. But I am excited about the places my lord has planned me to be. I move forward, nibbling on the tasty memories of my life till this moment.
Farewells are always painful no matter how much of happiness or glory one is headed into. Yet there is a hope of meeting again. That becomes the fire nourishing your spirits. I’m warming my spirits near this fire, preparing my heart and mind for the days to come.