The Migration

Home. Almost everyone has a meaning for it. Those who don’t are thought of as ugly ducklings. When that happens, there’s only one thing left to do:



There was once a lad who lived on an island. It was beautiful. It was home.


The island was called Low Shore.


It wasn’t very large. To his mind, it was just right. He was comfortable there. He was aware that his roots were elsewhere but he never gave it much thought. Home was home. At that point in time, he may have even agreed with the cliché that stated home is where the heart is.

However, around the age of 8, his family shifted. They packed their belongings in boxes and hopped on a plane.


The plane landed in a bubble. At first it was exciting. This was a whole new world. The sad truth was, it wasn’t a very welcoming world, at least for the young lad. He spent another eight years there.


He lived in a house. His family lived in a home.


His great-grandparents, grandparents, and cousins were around him. He adored them but that was not enough for him. He longed for the island, which seemed to drift away, further and further everyday with the tide of time.


He knew he didn’t belong to the bubble. His roots passed through the bubble and he no longer knew where they started. He was a fish out of water. A more appropriate metaphor would be that he was a bird in a cage. Although, both statements would be correct.


Eight years passed and he moved to a hill.

He went by himself to a school there. It was fairly far from the bubble; it was even further from the island. He could fly again. But he still wasn’t home.

By this time he’d also realized that the island wasn’t really home either. He was now looking around. There was a much larger island that had caught his eye. In fact, he had been drawn to it for several years now.

To an extent, he was sure that was where he wanted to be. But he kept debating between the large island and another island which was quite cold. The cold island was initially supposed to be his place of birth. However, his mum had gotten cold feet, which led to him being born in the bubble.


After his two years on the hill, where he had thrived and enjoyed the company of many like him, he took a year off to strengthen his wings, to practice for the long flight ahead of him.


Migration season was coming soon.


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