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"Eight Years, One Month at a Time – A Journey of Belonging"

Life often unfolds in unexpected ways, taking us far from home and planting us in unfamiliar cities, surrounded by new people, languages, and cultures. As someone from North India, I found myself navigating such a journey after marriage — moving out of my home state for work, along with my husband. But amid all the hustle of career and responsibilities, one constant in my life has been the annual month I spend at my in-laws’ house.

It’s been eight years now. Every year, for just one month, I return to this home — a place that has quietly become a second family, a second world. And yet, every time I walk through those doors, it feels like I’m stepping in for the very first time.

What amazes me the most is not just the affection I receive, but the maturity and understanding that radiates from every member of the family. They have never made me feel like an outsider. They never questioned the limited time I get to spend with them. Instead, they welcomed me — year after year — with the same warmth, grace, and genuine care.

Being away from one’s roots is never easy. There’s always a silent fear of not being accepted, of cultural differences becoming walls instead of bridges. But in this house, those fears never took shape. Despite coming from a different region, with a different background, I was never made to feel "different." I was embraced for who I am, for the efforts I make, and for the love I bring in whatever little time I get to spend with them.

Their understanding has never been expressed in grand gestures — rather, it’s the little things: a smile that says “we’re happy to see you,” a shared meal full of laughter, or simply the way they make space for me in every conversation, every tradition, every corner of the home.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that relationships aren’t measured by how much time you spend together, but by the depth of respect, kindness, and support you share. And for that, I am deeply grateful to my in-laws — for treating me not as a visitor, but as a daughter who comes home once a year, bringing with her a suitcase full of love and memories.

As I reflect on these past eight years, I carry with me a heart full of gratitude. It’s a reminder that true family is built not just through blood, but through acceptance, empathy, and love that asks for nothing in return.