House of Stacked Boxes

There was that time you took a trip to your parents home in Dubai. It was 201-something, '17 maybe. You went through the motions while planning the trip, while you were there, and after you returned to Seattle. You booked your ticket and immediately dreaded leaving your stable setup in Seattle for 2 weeks. During the period leading up to your flight, you fantasized anxious scenarios of what could go wrong during the trip. You boarded the plane and were eager to step foot in your homeland. You were happy to see your mother at the airport. When you got to your parent's home that night and saw the stacks and stacks of boxes, you felt an impact like a glass of milk hitting the floor (more on this). When you got to Pakistan and your father picked you up with Ameer-uncle, you were rejuvenated. Seeing your friends was a moment of maturing. Meeting Deeba-Khaala was a stamp validating the 7 years you spent abroad. And the the time spent in Dubai was a glimpse into your new role in your parent's life.

A lot happened during your trip. Today, I want to tell you something about what you felt when you saw those stacks of boxes in your mother's room. 

Your initial reaction was an instant reminder: "I'm home. This is what I grew up in." Following that was a crashing wave of racing realizations: 

- Mother and father don't live grand and luxurious lives

- I might live like this someday

- I should do something to improve their standard of living

- They probably fight a lot about this

- They sleep in separate rooms because of this

- This kind of sucks

Your reactions didn't exactly make you feel warm. You felt that way, Zain@26, because this image was a strong one from your childhood. It has negative connotations attached to it. But, you are no longer a child. Adapt.

This is you. Learn to love it. Everyone is their own person. They have their own traditions, passed down from generation to generation. Your true happiness can only be attained by accepting and embracing your upbringing and past, and realizing that striving to attain an objective ideal of how life should be will feel like a never-ending marathon. This is how human beings are.