It has been quite some time since we last went back to my hometown. I went back with my son in early May to vote during the election day, but visiting my parents as a family – three of us – it has been a while. Put my husband’s exam, Isa being unwell, my parents visiting us and all other emergencies and weekend activities, I think it is almost 5 months.
I yearn to go home.
But home is where your family is. Now that I have my own family of my husband and son, what happens to my family of my father, mother and siblings? How different the homey feeling would be?
I realise then, that being at home is being at ease.
Family don’t judge. You can act crazy, you can act silly – they will still love you. You are a failure, you are a winner, it mostly doesn’t matter to them.
Feeling at home is when things are unconditional.
Parents’ love is unconditional. It’s given. No ifs, ands or buts. I know it well now that I am a mother. Your children and your parents are Divine choice.
Spousal love, on the other hand, is not. They become your family once you marry them. And you marry them, I hope, by choice. And who made the choice? You. How did you make the choice? Perhaps because they met some set criteria. And criteria means conditions.
But of course, it can grow unconditional.
It’s complicated, you know. But I’m glad I feel at home with both. So you see, maybe I have come to love my spouse unconditionally.
What a milestone to realise that this Ramadhan.