How the summers remind me of trips to the valley of Kashmir.
Walks in dense poplar forests, rivulets humming in the background, mighty mountains watching over us all the time. Oh the smells of the apple orchards , the apricot groves, the blossoming flowers.
The summer weddings, the pilgrimages, the sleepovers. Summer was time to be in the peaceful valley of Kashmir.
But each summer now, only memories remain, I can ski in Keystone, Colorado, or see the Cherry blossoms in DC, or go boating in the finger lakes, but everything and everybody enveloping you in one empowering embrace of belonging is still amiss.