Stay

In an instant it all makes sense. It's time to go home, you think, as the reasons to leave loom large and the excuses to stay slowly fade away.

Years ago I remember standing at the Bombay International Airport, waiting outside in the heat for my Indian American relatives to check in, get their boarding passes, and get through immigration lines. They were headed home. I longed to follow them, if only for a little while, see this world that they talked so highly of. I yearned to visit other countries, see other cultures, learn to say "hello" in seven different languages and "goodbye" in six.

And in that longing, I lost sight of my own country. For in the few brief moments that they would return to tell us they were checked in and hoped to see us in their homes soon, I clutched on tight to the sight of their spotless streets and organized chaos. And when they left, we left. And as the car bumped through potholes on the road that directed us home, I sat in the backseat of our car, closed my eyes and boarded the plane with them.

Years later I landed. "Welcome home," the customs officer said, as he checked my India to Zurich to Fort Worth labels. 10,000 miles away, I couldn't be further away from home if I tried.

But home has been anything I've wanted it to be. Home has been Missouri, home has been Memorial Union, home has been the Columbia clock tower, home has been Stephens Lake, home has been the beach in Norwalk, home has been holiday photographs, home has been a sunset on the Arabian Sea, home has been a sunrise at 40,000 feet, home has been the London tube, home has been the Paris metro, home has been missed deadlines and stomach cramps, home has been mama, home has been papa, home has been.

I suppose then that I never left home. Only built more rooms to an existing place in my life. And in that instant it all makes sense.

I'm here to stay.