I'm working diligently on my rewrites for "Leaving Home: A Punjabi Love Story" and it's hard because it makes me miss the place so daggone much!!! And it's very difficult to explain when people ask why I'm so in love. After all, they ask, didn't you say that you were freezing cold the entire time you were there? Didn't you say that their homes had no central heat? Didn't you have to bathe by dipping cold water out of a bucket most days? And wear smelly, filthy clothing because I didn't want to hand wash my clothes in freezing cold water.
The answer is YES. And I didn't understand what people were saying to me most of the time. And I wasn't allowed to leave the house. And I was dragged around, at the mercy of the men who lived in the home.
So what do I miss? The smiles that reached the eyes. The hands clasped together, with a bow and a, "Sat sri akal." The full-bodied hugs from complete strangers. The food and drink 'forced' upon me every time I set foot in someone's home. The private jokes that needed no shared words. The new family members. The constant honking. The constant praying and singing and dancing and loud voices raised in joy, anger, sorrow...
Feeling alive and loved. Be patient with me while I try and acclimate to my former world. After all, I am no longer my former self.