My heart is heavy...like someone placed a wheelbarrow full of bricks on my chest after making me to lie down in the soil on my back. Unwanted tears are streaming down my face and my breath is shallow. I don't have a real reason to cry. Nobody died and I'm not physically hurt. I feel like an idiot as the salty tracks reach my mouth and my nose clogs up and I realize we don't have any tissue in the house. I called just to hear their voices; just to wish them a happy anniversary and to tell them I miss them; how much I wish I could be there. He couldn't handle my teary voice and gave the phone back to her. I hope I didn't make him melancholy, too. I just need them both to know that this girl inside me, this girl of long roots, who has lived every place and who is still from no place in particular, that when she gets homesick--- it's their home she's missing.
An Irish-American Muslim stay-at-home-mom, raising 5 teenagers sans alcohol and vying for Mother-of-the-Year Award nominations while struggling to fit somewhere in the world other than just her own couch.
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