In the silence of the night next to the even rhythm of my husband’s breathing I lay awake with a pain clamped heavily around my heart. Eyes closed but mind alert riddled with thoughts darting to and pro in different directions. From the mundane to a constant anxiety I was unaware how it led to the image of my aging parents. Just the two of them, living away from all their children.
How could it happen when childhood attachments a precious cord too painful to sever bound the family so tightly? How could sons and daughters fled so far away from them? Could it be that too much love and closeness hinder independence? A suffocation from parental influence?
Flight for freedom away from the homely bubble sent us traipsing around the globe. Never did they complain nor prevented us from doing what we wanted. Which is worse because an argument would have ease the unspoken guilt. A chance to justify this selfish need to gratify the itching feet.
Remorse aggravated the pinch in my heart. It was so sudden it brought tears brimming in my eyes. I stifled a sob. I felt a hand touched my hair gently, sending the tears falling freely. I found myself enveloped in a warm embrace and felt a kiss on my forehead. My husband inquired if I was alright. And in between hiccups I murmured on his chest what’s ailing me. He is always very understanding and tender whenever homesickness hits me. He would be quiet and listening. Squeezing my arms every now and then. Until the storm within me wanes.
With his sleep laden voice he cracked a joke. I laughed heartily, tears all spent, heart unburdened. I snuggled close. Comforted in his arms. Sleepiness overtaking me.
” Honey, call them first thing in the morning.” I heard him whispered in my ears as I was just entering the gates of dreams.