Spring is finally saying hello to the land of Australia. The sun is pushing through the cloud, eager to expose her burning rays. Days are longer, vibrant moods spread in the air. Winter on the other hand, is counting her last days, blanketing us with her remaining cold winds and soft showers - the dreaded farewell, the final parting.
The approaching weather, albeit warmly welcomed and aptly celebrated, reminds me rather painfully of home. The hot days carry a rather salty taste in the air, and it takes me back to the long stretch of beaches in Marang I often drove past on my way home and the smell of Teluk Chempedak and all its merry splendour. The taste of coffee in the morning, humid and wet, brings to me the times spent in McDonald’s and local kopitiam with dearest brother. Our long conversations - the shared memories, laughter and tears - anything which gives home its meaning. The fasting month too, with it comes thirst and hunger, and arrays of hallucination on Malaysian cuisines; karipap, bubur lambuk, and murtabak. Few times I stumbled and uttered Malay words to my Australian friends, only to find confused and appalled stares in response.
Home claws to me like roots, enveloping my core with its dusty and intertwining fibers. Without it I collapse, without it I decay, without it I am no longer a living, breathing, beating entity.
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