Nadiah Alwi

A picture tells it all…

Picture by: Glenda Otero, Argentina

Photo by: Sebastian Pothe

It’s been a week since my Mom got hospitalized. It’s been 10 days since I first took care of her, after my brother told me that Mom was not feeling well.

Now, she is in bed, sleeping in front of me.

As far as I remember, this is the second time she has to stay in the hospital. Before, it was 2004. She had some surgery. At that time, I was pregnant, so I couldn’t accompany her in the hospital.

But now, out of 10 days she has been sick, only 1 day I spent the night at home with my daughter and hubby. It was yesterday. Simply because my daughter told me that she missed me so much. However, my heart was actually in the hospital with my Mom.

Mom being sick never occurred in my mind before. She is a very strong woman. Let’s say, she’s not feeling well, it doesn’t stop her from doing lots of activities. She always has something to do. Especially, cooking.

She just loves food and cooking. Everything she makes tastes delicious.

Now, she has diabetes. She is on a diet.

She is still sleeping in front of me, in the hospital bed — and my Dad, too, sleeping on the couch.

Hope tomorrow she can go home. Aamiin.

There is one thing in my life that I can consider a comfort zone. Maybe because there is such a certainty there.

But it’s been a while I don’t feel comfortable there. Many things bother me. Everything seems to go wrong.

To be honest, I’d rather leave it. But, somehow, as I said earlier, it somehow eases my life. I know, I can get it from other places. But these other places that I have in mind might offer such an uncertainty which could make me feel uncomfortable.

Complicated, rite?

It is.

Well, it could be uncomplicated, I know. But, hey, I am not a good decision maker. So…I think, comme d’habitude, just let the condition makes the decision for me. Whether I should stay or leave.

What I love with English is it has two different terms one can use to define a place where he/she lives in. Why is it so important for me? Because, I feel like now I live in a house which I cannot call home. And, for me, that is quite sad. Because, previously, I did call it home.

I used to live here since I was three days young up to one week after my marriege which was when I was 26 years old. After the marriage, I rent a house. But then, about two years later, I had to go back to this house for some reasons.

And, now, after almost four years living here again, I feel like there is such a big gap between me and this house. We both, in a certain way, distance ourselves from each other.

Me with my big desire to have a house of my own, and the house itself with its different proprietor.

Actually, there are many things that make me sad about living here. One of them is how this house reminds me a lot of my late beloved grandparents. Yes, it was their home, with me in it. Now that they are gone and this house providing various memories on each of its corners, the comfot I used to feel has gone.

I also have this big dream of my own house. A big dream of a small comfy house. I don’t need a big one, because I know I have only little time and energy to clean up the whole house. And, I also want it to be warm. It’s not that big house cannot provide warmness. It can, but with lots of members of family living in it. I wish to have it with my small nuclear family, consisting of not more than 4 persons, hubby, me, my daughter, and maybe my second child.

I don’t know how, but I still hope and pray that one day, this beautiful dream will come true. With the love of Allah, insya Allah, I will have a place that I can call home — again.