Ghar Jaisa Kuch Kuch

Sanobar Sabah

Three generations of my family have lived in the Gulf. I've moved through eight apartments in a decade, living like nomads as we poured our savings into building a home back home. My current house is a patchwork of sale items or second-hand furniture. I've grown up with a sense of detachment from the things that fill my house - my furniture and I coexist but avoid any intimacy.

With time though, as my middle-aged body guides me toward my ultimate truth, it shows me that all I've ever needed is a gentle, nurturing space that lets me simply be. I’m now allowing myself to anchor in the transient nature of my life – beginning with my nightstand—a bedside table that came with a massive bed, resold to us by my husband's friend before he left for Bangkok. It's been beside me for about nine years now - it's not the dark wood I dream of, but painted to look like it - a close second.

After years of "saving" my precious belongings, I'm finally allowing them to make their presence known. My nightstand now holds a black & white picture of my Amma and Nana Abba, photos of my children when they were little, and a gifted framed picture of my father and me. A handwritten card from a writer friend. Sometimes a vase of fresh flowers. I love how my modest lamp casts warm yellow light over all these objects, highlighting and preserving memories. The way homes normally should.

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Objects of Our Affection is a series exploring our connections to the furniture and objects that make our spaces home. Through stories of tables, chairs, and that odd-shaped thing only you love, we celebrate the inanimate pieces that hold memory and witness our lives.

If you'd like to contribute your own story to this series, we'd love to hear from you. Micro-essays, poems, reflections, and fragments welcome. Write to us at hellothadi@gmail.com. Word limit 400.