It is really easy to feel incredibly homesick as I read about the upcoming elections (polling day being less than 2 weeks away) and realize that as I finish up my Bachelor’s degree in this foreign country, I will not be able to cast my vote this time round. I will have to wait another five years. I wish I had the means to fly home to vote but being the rule-follower and planner that I am, doing that on such short notice would simply be a nightmare. That, and you know, that money to buy a plane ticket thing. My heart aches as I feel the geographical distance between me and home more than ever. As I realize that my fellow Malaysians are dead serious about change that needs to sweep the nation for revival, I feel a tinge of regret that I’m so far and separated from all that’s going on. Well, yeah, I know can pray and so on, but my heart aches to be home to cheer, to watch in anticipation and held breaths, to do my part, to simply be part of this historical movement which I pray with all my heart will not see an end, ever. All I can do to participate is glean information with my face stuck to a bright glowing screen. That can be so lonely.

I want to be with my family. I want to be with the ones I love. I simply want to be home. And what home is to me has simply been folding into greater complexity with each passing day in the US. Home no longer simply means KL, although it will always bears a heavy weight on it.

And it is in moments like this that I sigh with gratitude and relief and unseen tears that I have not stopped feeling and caring.


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