3 months into an unexpectedly long stay at home, but now I am a few weeks away from having to go back to “real life” (and therefore thoroughly pressuring myself to write a summarizing blogpost about it). All of my previous “visits to home” have been 3-4 weeks of whirlwind madness, trying to cram in maximum quality time, favourite meals and relaxation into the holiday. The time available of course was limited by the yearlong leave I saved to be home with family and childhood friends. I’d land and run immediately to friends’ weddings, and usually get sick soon after. Whether from exhaustion or weather change, I never quite knew why – but it would knock me off my feet for a few days. I would console myself that atleast I was sick at home, and let myself be pampered. Not having to lift a finger while under a fever, with hot soup and fruit bowls being brought to you does soften the blow of a flu. I would bounce back after a week, and rush around meeting friends, family, shopping, eating a
"A dawn to end all nights, that's all we hoped it was"